Shifting Territories
by ButtonMashr
Summary: This one might stand alone... but it's also Story 5: When all roads lead to an increasingly volatile Southside (for both the teens and adults), FP considers pulling the plug on Jughead's FBI internship - until it seems like the safest place for him. Unfortunately, the heart of undercover work is misdirection. Will they win this deep game? Or will it blow up in their faces?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this story might be able to stand alone. Maybe. **

**It is also story FIVE (wowzers) in the Jughead-is-held-hostage-and-stuff series. (yep, that's the official tag line now...)**

**Here's what you need to know if you are just tuning in and considering trying this story without taking on the four prequels first:**

**There are two original characters who are now fairly central: Brand (Jughead's kidnapper/godfather) and Alice Carter (Jughead's friend with _questionable_ parents, who at this point lives with Veronica).**

**Also: Jughead learned how to fight and got a dog.**

**I think that brings everyone up to speed (did I leave anything out? :-D), sans too many spoilers - just in case you decide to go back and read from story one. **

**To everyone coming along for the ride: thanks so much for continuing to read! **

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

**Prologue**

"What, now you're suddenly MacGyver?"

"I know; Jug really commits to that smokescreen of incompetence, doesn't he?" Archie smiled wanly at his own teasing words, even though his voice was still shaky. "We should escape on our own. I like that plan. Even though we probably can't rappel this time - which was awesome - Jughead's right. This room is full of useful stuff."

When Archie looked around the room some more, though, his expression became increasingly fearful. "Um, hey, Jughead... good news and bad news. It looks like we've literally got everything that we need to make explosives. So maybe we shouldn't try anything after all. Or maybe... I guess that could be an improvised weapon?"

"_What_? No way," Jughead didn't stop working on his bonds, but he glared a warning over at Archie. "I barely passed my Chemistry final. Brand refuses to teach me anything. I cannot make explosives."

"Dude, not what I meant. You think I'd trust you near anything resembling cooking? You've barely mastered chicken," Archie shook his head mournfully and his smile was stronger this time. He seemed to be calming down a little as he focused on this new idea.

"Bu-ut, guess what I did this week - and most of last week. Do _not _tell my dad, or he'll fire all the demo guys." Archie thought about that for a moment. "Which might not be a bad thing, actually."

"How am I the one with the least expertise in this situation?"

"Yeah, where did you get this guy, Jug? Worst FBI agent ever." Archie shot Jughead an aggrieved look. "You couldn't get us kidnapped with someone useful? Like Brand?"

Jughead mirrored the aggrieved look back at Archie. "Hey, it is not my fault that your internship is apparently way cooler than mine. I can't believe you learned how to build a bomb. I learned how to make _coffee_."

"Well, mostly. The detonation stuff they obviously did without me, but I think that's the easy part." Archie nodded once, even though his nervous expression had returned in full force. "Piece of cake. Right?"

**00000**

**Chapter One**

**October 2nd, Junior year**

**00000**

"Happy birthday! Again! How old does that make you, anyway? Twenty?"

"Don't let my dad hear you say that." Jughead shot Brand a warning look through the phone.

They'd scheduled one of their regular cooking video calls so that they could make his birthday cake together - following the same recipe simultaneously, in different countries - and timed everything so that when Jughead's friends came over later in the day for dinner it would all be ready.

Jughead liked that FP often popped in on their video calls, 'to make sure Davies isn't trying to take over the world.' The two men still fought on occasion, but Brand had a much harder time getting a rise out of his dad over the phone, much as he loved to try.

That might get a rise, though.

Jughead had been given a new birthday - and age - along with his new identity in Toronto, and for a birthday present Brand had taught him to shoot a handgun. Brand claimed he was not getting him anything for his actual birthday, since Jughead was 'in danger of getting spoiled.' Jughead wasn't sure if that was the truth, or just a cover for a surprise gift. With Brand it could go either way.

"Oh, he doesn't like you getting older? Gaining independence? Has he stopped feeding you, in an attempt to keep you his little boy forever?" Brand had noticed that Jughead had not gained the weight back from his intense eleven months.

They were nearing the one year mark since he'd first met Brand, which was a weird thought - and in fact he had lost a few pounds since their vacation over the summer. Brand had been teasing him with a faint undercurrent of concern. Very faint.

"Want me to pound cookie dough while you watch?"

"Don't you mean chug?"

"You can't _chug_ cookie dough," Jughead cringed. "Or maybe you can. I can't."

"You aren't eating frozen food, are you?" This was one of the reasons they had instituted regular video cooking sessions together: Brand knew that Jughead was still hesitant about eating food that he had not prepared himself, and without his favorite dietary supplement of calorie-dense take-out, Brand was half convinced that he would starve to death.

So far he felt justified in that opinion.

And FP had given it the old college try with the take-out. He'd attempted with Pop's, and while eating there in a booth seemed to be a loophole for the kid, he still wouldn't touch take-out from Pop's if he did not personally pick it up.

At one point FP had consulted with Brand and gotten a pizza that they'd both been sure the kid could not resist. When Jughead had refused to try it, FP had gotten irritated and snapped at him that his logic was not great: if anything _was_ wrong with the food, he'd just be dealing with his father being poisoned, after all.

That had not proven to be a smart gambit.

The heavy-duty deadbolts the Joneses had installed together in the door to each bedroom, _only_ to be used for protection or defense, had gotten some exercise that day while Jughead choked down a couple of bites of pizza… and then most likely curled up in the fetal position with his dog and waited to die.

After what he'd deemed to be a suitable amount of time, pale but accomplished, the kid had returned the pizza to his (furious) father.

It would have been funny - it was just so _Jones_, from the poor logic to the impetuosity to the unfailingly good motives - if it had not been painful to hear about.

"No. I just cook huge batches of rice and stuff. I bag my lunches. I'm basically professionalizing; I'll start wearing a suit and tie and giving PowerPoint presentations during lunch period any day now. It's fine."

"It's restricted eating. That's a disorder. You have a diagnosis."

"You saying it does not mean I have 'a diagnosis,' Brand," Jughead rolled his eyes. "And _you_ have restricted eating by that definition. You won't eat frozen food."

"I eat frozen vegetables. I just steam them first."

Jughead still looked resistant. He pulled a package of raw cookie dough out of the refrigerator.

"You were serious? Salmonella, kid. Put it back."

"Nope. And you can't stop me." Jughead popped some cookie dough in his mouth. Brand made a dramatic gagging noise.

"How does _anything_ you two cook come out edible?" FP walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a chunk of cookie dough and popped it into his mouth with a smug glance over at Brand through the phone where it was set up on the counter. Jughead grinned at his dad, who gave him a conspiratorial smile in return.

"How is he still underweight?" Brand went on the offensive. "I left our boy in your hands, old man, and I want to see results or I'm going to start sending care packages."

"Really? How much weight do I need to lose for you to do that?" Jughead asked, his eyes lighting up.

FP gestured at Jughead with a 'see what you did?' look at Brand. "Incentive structures, Davies. Get it together."

"Get those pounds back on that you lost after Michigan and I'll send you a care package," Brand amended.

"It would be easier if you sent the care package first," Jughead was in the mood to barter. "But if _you_ were the care package, then-,"

"I already told you I can't get down there until work lightens up," Brand cut him off. "Look, I know I pull this sort of birthday surprise crap all the time - oh wait, no I don't - and I hate seeing your sad face when you're disappointed that I'm not there yet again. So please accept the reality that I have to work right now."

Jughead immediately felt bad for asking about a visit when Brand's response came out more regretful than teasing. He knew that his godfather missed him too, and dearly wished that he could visit Riverdale. Brand was still trying to work things out for a visit once Jughead started the internship, but his work schedule was getting complicated as he was finally moved off of paperwork and that bothered him a great deal.

It felt like he was breaking a promise, and it was one of Brand's few pacts with Jughead: it was better not to promise anything at all than to break his word.

The internship would begin in just a few days; they'd ended up having to time it with Jughead's seventeenth birthday so that the 'impossible' clearance would become viable, even with the leveraging of what sounded like a considerable amount of Brand's clout.

"I probably won't settle in for months, Brand," Jughead offered. That was what Brand had promised, after all. He'd visit once Jughead had 'settled in' at the internship.

"If you do anything to mess things up, just because I'm stuck at work-,"

"Brand, I'm not insane," Jughead interrupted. He crossed his arms when both Brand and FP gave him looks of exaggerated surprise. "Ha ha. You two are twinning again."

Jughead had learned how to fight back when they teamed up a little too effectively, and he was gratified when they shot each other side-eye. "I'm only saying that it takes a while to get in the swing of things. You've got time. Just don't wait for Christmas, okay? I expect two visits. No doubling up."

"Getting greedy, aren't we?"

"Yep. So you can get me a Christmas present; I'm clearly already spoiled, so the damage has been done." Jughead began to wrap the cookie dough up again, smiling when his dad grabbed one more piece at the last moment.

"Huh. You save a kid from being a homeless orphan, and this is how he repays you." Brand smirked when both Jughead and FP glared at him. "How about it, old man? You got that bedroom set up for me?"

FP raised an eyebrow. "I'll take you on a tour. Jughead, do you have some prep you need to do here?"

Jughead narrowed his eyes at both of them, but he did not comment. If this sudden suspicious behavior was _not_ about a birthday surprise, then he might make Brand feel badly again.

FP picked up Jughead's phone without further comment and headed for the spare bedroom.

**00000**

"Subtle. I'm going to need to get him a birthday present now, you know. Just to cover for you," Brandon complained once FP had taken the call off of speakerphone.

"Get him some camera gear," FP suggested. "I'll send you some links. He's always talking about lenses these days, and that will give him something to send to you when he takes photos."

"Okay," Brand thought that sounded like a pretty good idea, actually. "What's the deal? Have you had any trouble?"

"Not with paperwork," FP replied. "I've got to take a walk tonight, though."

"FP, this only works if I know-,"

"An actual walk, Brandon. I let it be known that he'd be out tonight with Trigger."

There was a long silence.

"Don't let the dog get hurt. He'll be upset."

FP snorted.

"I'll make a call for some backup," Brandon said decisively.

"It will work better if you don't."

"For _who_?"

"I know what I'm doing. That's why you came to me."

"You're no good to me if-,"

"Brandon. He's been talking about a macro lens. Be warned: extreme close-ups of the dog are likely to follow. Get him a nice one, though. He thought you'd show up before now, so you have some ground to make up. Why _didn't_ you get him anything?"

"I got him something for his birthday a few months ago; he already got it. You want me to buy the kid off? Nice parenting," Brandon did not sound displeased with the idea, though. "The training's only for another few days. Then I'm just waiting on the green light."

"Good. I'll let him onboard, then," FP said.

"Oh, come on - you were _not_ going to pull the plug on-,"

"Try me," FP's tone was dead serious. "A good college only benefits him if he makes it there."

"Well, let him onboard, FP. And walk fast. You've been training?"

"Jughead's going to start getting suspicious if I get better any faster," FP smiled. "But it's not going to make a difference tonight."

"Not making me feel better."

"In a good way," FP assured him. "Trust me."

"That's our deal," Brandon confirmed. "Call me when you get home."

"Aw, are you worried about my pretty face?"

"I just want to hear how the dog holds up."

They both smirked, and FP switched the call back to video and speakerphone. "Blue bedding, recliner, and we've got curtains. In case Jughead expects a report."

"Let's get cooking." Brand grinned. "What did you get him, anyway?"

"You think he wouldn't get that out of you in five minutes?" FP shook his head and he returned to the kitchen. Jughead was making a face at the recipe pulled up on his laptop. "Hey, you look worried; that's not the face I want to see when you're baking a cake."

"We won't mess it up, dad," Jughead looked up from the recipe. He took back the phone and placed it in its usual perch for their kitchen sessions. "Ready, Brand? This one's a little weird."

"Let's do it, kid." Brand consulted the recipe. "Okay - I see what you mean by weird. Let's start there."

FP left them to their cooking routine. He had some plans to finalize.

**00000**

"Oh man, I said no gifts. Did I need to hit 'reply all' again?" Jughead teased as he hugged Betty when she arrived. He rested his chin on her head for an extra moment before he stepped back to invite her into the house. Trigger was circling them both energetically, but he was not growling or jumping. They'd made a lot of progress over the last few months. "You're the first one here, so let's hide that real quick."

"It's just something from vacation," Betty handed Jughead a framed photo - of him, Brand, and FP wreck diving, each using another's secondary regulator.

Jughead laughed and hugged her again. "Wow; that is a classic."

"It really is," Betty wrapped her arms around him as well. "So, what did you make for everyone?"

"Enchiladas and a chocolate orange cake," Jughead grinned. "I think they turned out, too."

"That sounds fantastic," Betty looked over toward the kitchen area. "Oh, wow - the cake looks amazing."

It had three tiers and could have come from a bakery.

"Brand's trying to teach me 'presentation,' even though that's not something he ever put effort into when he was cooking for me," Jughead shook his head in mock exasperation. "We're not quite up to decorating cakes, but frosting them competently has been one of our recent challenges."

"That is more than competent." Betty walked over to admire it.

"Hi Betty." FP entered the kitchen and patted Trigger absently when the dog rushed to greet him. "How's your car doing?"

Betty's car had been having trouble when she'd been over on the previous weekend, and FP had offered to take a look at it with her - and been impressed when she'd turned out to need no help at all. Betty had been grateful for the second set of eyes, hands, and opinions, and Jughead didn't think she'd even noticed his father's surprise at her facility under the hood.

They seemed to like each other and make an effort, even when they did not entirely understand each other. Their dynamic struck Jughead as a little odd, but it worked for them so he didn't question it.

"It's perfect now; thanks again." Betty gave FP a hug.

Jughead hid a smile when his dad raised his eyebrows and gave him an amused look over Betty's shoulder. Brand had gotten Betty into the habit of hugging him, and that had somehow expanded to include his dad at some point along the way. FP didn't mind, but it still seemed to surprise him every time she did it.

Jughead could relate. It still amazed him that he and Betty were together. Things were good between them, too; it had been great getting more time over the summer, and officially passing the mark where they'd had more time as a couple post-Toronto than they'd had pre-Toronto. Somehow that made a difference. They felt more settled, and there was no longer the overpowering presence of Jughead's 'lost time' hanging over their interactions.

When Jughead referred back to something, the odds were good that it had happened in Riverdale. When Betty recounted a story, the odds were good that it had not happened while he was in Toronto. The whole experience was getting proportionally smaller for everyone.

"Is Alice coming with Veronica?" Jughead asked. Because some parts of the experience had not faded - and had even picked up momentum for other people in his life - even while the darkest parts were beginning to blend into the background for him.

"I'm pretty sure she is," Betty confirmed. Her expression shadowed slightly, but she didn't say anything more.

"Great." Jughead checked the time. "I'll get Trig set up for the evening."

Jughead signaled for Trigger to heel and carried the dog's bed to his room so that he could shut Trig in.

There was a knock on the front door and Jughead listened at his bedroom door for a moment to hear his dog's reaction. "Good; he's quiet."

"You've done quite the job with that dog," FP observed. He was deeply impressed that Trigger wasn't trying to tunnel under the door.

"He's smart." Jughead was heading toward the front door. "He just needed to know the rules."

FP and Betty exchanged amused glances. Since they'd returned from vacation in the summer, and only more so since school had started up again, Jughead had knuckled down and made an effort to settle into an impressive, hardworking routine that he never failed to downplay.

Jughead opened the front door to greet his guests. "Alice! You made it!"

This time FP and Betty exchanged glances that were more uneasy than amused.

**00000**

"Okay, okay, okay - but John Donne and John Milton have way more-,"

"Why are you even trying, Jonas? We both know you're lost at sea as soon as you get two feet away from the bard."

"Jughead," Archie interjected. They were sitting in the back yard and everyone had cake and the weather was gorgeous - but the conversation had taken a strange turn and nobody had quite figured out how - or whether - to redirect it to include more people.

This was not atypical for Jughead and Alice when they got together, but it _was_ atypical for Alice in any other setting these days. She had slowly become more talkative since her mother's arrest, but often seemed ill at ease in conversation and a little too willing to go along with anyone she felt she 'owed.' It had not gone unnoticed - and nothing seemed to do much to set her at ease. Efforts to reassure Alice usually just served to make her feel even more uncomfortable.

And so everyone had been patient for months as this dynamic played out again and again.

But there was a limit.

"_Jughead_," FP repeated when Alice looked up at Archie in confusion, as if she hadn't caught what he'd just said. Jughead looked between them in response to hearing his own name. "He doesn't go by Jonas any longer."

"Oh! Sorry, sorry - Jughead - you're still not going to be able to-,"

"For the millionth time, it's okay if people call me Jonas by accident," Jughead shot his dad a look. Alice and FP were kind of the opposite of Betty and FP: they often seemed like they understood each other a little _too_ well, and Jughead wasn't always sure that they tried to get along. "And come on, Alice, you haven't even _read-_,"

"Oh, you think I didn't do that immediately after we talked last night?" Alice laughed. She looked around at the others who were sitting in deck chairs on the patio behind the Joneses' home. "Am I right? The writers of the Trecento beat out John Milton and John Donne every time. No contest. If _Jughead_ wasn't so Anglo-centric-,"

"And we've got ad hominem, ladies and gentlemen," Jughead sounded triumphant. "How many points is that to me?"

"Oh, shut up." Alice glared, but her expression slipped almost immediately into a grin. "I'll give you three points for that one, though."

Jughead smirked.

"So, Mr. Jones, I've been wondering… do they do this all the time, or just when Betty's in the room?"

FP was surprised when Veronica leaned over to quietly ask him the question. But the question made some sense; Veronica likely only saw Alice and Jughead together when Betty was also present.

FP weighed the pros and cons of answering her honestly. It felt disloyal to share his full opinion, and FP sensed that his residual distrust of Alice had a lot more to do with the fallout from her article than anything about her per se, so he softened his response: "I don't think it's intentional."

"Mmmm," Veronica responded with a false lightness in her tone. "Well. As long as it's not intentional." She generally got along with Alice just fine, but Veronica had found herself more irritated by this dynamic as time went on - and it didn't help that Betty seemed bound and determined to let it go, making Veronica feel more urgently like she should defend her best friend's territory. Which was a really troubling way of regarding Jughead, come to think of it.

Veronica and FP both looked over at Betty, whose expression was determinedly polite.

"What did you read last night, Alice?" Betty's smile did not flicker, even though this was not how she'd pictured Jughead's birthday dinner party playing out. There were many reasons why Betty felt guilty about doing anything at all to take away a form of support or a source of happiness from Alice, but this dynamic was getting more intense now that they'd started back at school and there were not a whole lot of free hours in the day for Jughead to split between his friends.

His internship would start in a few days, and then there would be even less time. And Alice always seemed eager to soak up as much of Jughead's time as he was able to spare.

Betty did not want to feel like she was competing for Jughead's attention, and she _really_ didn't like suspecting that she might be getting less of it than Alice by some measures. But she had her usual reminders ready for herself: it was not the same; Jughead made it very clear that he and Betty were together; quality was more important than quantity.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. They could all be close friends. Just like with Trigger, Betty simply needed to accept the new presence in Jughead's life, work to make peace - and a good relationship - with Alice, and then everything would be even better than before. And they really did have a lot in common.

"_Areopagitica_," Alice shot Jughead a teasing smile instead of looking at Betty when she addressed her. "It's a seventeenth-century defense of freedom of the press."

"It's so much more than that," Jughead protested.

"Why were you reading it?" Betty was really hanging in there. "I might pick it up if-,"

"Oh, don't even bother," Alice rolled her eyes. "Jonas loves to show off, and it just figures he'd like anything that has an incomprehensible allusion for a title."

"Allusions are by definition anything _but_ incomprehensible," Jughead shot back.

"Jughead," FP repeated the correction, giving Alice a serious look and ignoring Jughead's annoyed reaction to his second reminder. This time FP's response had more to do with her edging Betty out of the conversation, but it really did bother him when Alice called him Jonas.

"Forsythe Pendleton Trey," Alice smirked at FP, ignoring the warning in his tone, and then faced Jughead again, "a.k.a., the ultimate in copy-and-paste naming, proving my point: allusions that don't make sense are _absolutely _incomprehensible."

FP's eyebrows shot up.

"At least we're going to be ready for the SATs," Veronica smiled sweetly through her own sarcasm when she spoke quietly to FP again.

FP knew that Veronica probably sensed that she had him firmly on her side after that comment from Alice, but there was no way that FP was rising to Alice's bait. He tried not to react to Veronica either, and thankfully she didn't seem to expect a response.

"Want to play a game or something?" Archie had not missed Veronica's asides to Mr. Jones, and he'd found that the best approach to getting Jughead and Alice out of this mode was to suggest doing something entirely different. "Not Trigger Ball," Archie added.

"I wasn't going to suggest that." Jughead finished his piece of cake in one bite and leaned forward eagerly to address Betty. "Want to play a board game, Betty? Brand's been teaching me game theory, and he says board games are a great way to get a better sense of it."

"Oh man, best pitch ever - for making it boring," Archie shook his head as if he were terribly disappointed in his best friend. "And how is that not basically telling everyone that you're planning to shark us?"

"I think it sounds like fun, Juggie. Let's play on teams; I call Alice. She knows what she's doing, and someone has to take down team Jones," Betty suggested, smiling warmly.

Veronica was impressed by how smoothly Betty had avoided making Alice feel like a fifth wheel - or letting the powder keg team of Alice and FP form by default. "But not Risk this time. We can pick something that has some chance involved-,"

"Not Apples to Apples," FP said firmly. "I cannot play that game with you five again."

"That one's tougher when you're not from the same generation, dad. You have nothing to be ashamed of." Jughead reached over to push his father's shoulder with a grin. "We can play chess later and you can mop the floor with me. What about Settlers of Catan? There's some chance, but we'll have a lot of strategy, too. We don't even have to play as teams with the expansion."

Everyone seemed enthusiastic, so Jughead jogged into the house to retrieve the game while the others rearranged the patio furniture so they were seated around the outdoor table.

"Anyone embargoes me, and you'd better leave a check to pay for your dinner," FP warned with a competitive grin at the teens around the table. "But I am _very_ willing to hear offers of alliances, particularly while Jug isn't here."

Archie was protesting loudly when Jughead returned.

"Yeah, don't team up with my dad," Jughead took one look at everyone and could see in their expressions what had played out in his absence. "He's using you; he'll turn on you. He knows a lot of game theory."

When nobody said anything, Jughead figured they'd just have to learn the hard way. "All right. It's your funeral. Pick colors; I'll set the board up."

**00000**

FP reflected on Jughead's comments about his supposed mastery of game theory while he leashed Trigger up for a late walk.

He had not won the game, having been barely beaten out by Veronica - who had the advantage that she was likable, which counted for far too much in that game. It had been close, though. FP had not formally studied game theory (or strategy of any kind) but it was true that Brandon's tutorials on practical applications sounded a lot like common sense or patterns that he'd observed. And, while the math would no doubt be useful, FP could get by on instinct for most things.

Or so he hoped.

The whole plan for this evening had seemed eminently sensible when FP had set it in motion. Granted, he'd been angry at the time, which he knew led him toward more impulsive decisions - but that anger also motivated him to simply get the job done. And if threats against Jughead were likely to continue without emphatic action on his father's part, then FP would do what he had to do - because this job _would_ get done.

Brandon had made it sound more foolish, though, and Davies had become increasingly prescient as he learned a whole lot very quickly through his work. At least when it came to everybody else.

Brandon himself still had a lot of the maverick in him, and FP had been surprised to hear that it had continued to work so well for him in his new position, and continued to benefit him even as he was rapidly being promoted. Because some other issues - interpersonal ones - had arisen between Davies and a few of the people he oversaw. Jughead did not know about the phone calls between Brandon and FP to discuss 'personnel management,' or Davies' new habit of drawing on FP's long track record of working with disruptive and problematic people on sensitive jobs.

FP suspected that the degree to which Brandon had 'imprinted' on him - Davies' word, though he'd never applied it to himself - also made the man uncomfortable, so he might not want Jughead to know that dynamics had shifted so far in that direction and now involved regular discussions, as though FP were a career coach or something. But another part of it was likely just habit. Davies did not mind asking for help if that would give him an advantage, but if he didn't have to share information, he often did not.

Which made their discussions less productive at times, but that was neither FP's fault nor his problem.

He still dogged Davies about it, though. Jughead was attached to his godfather, so it would be easier for all concerned if Brandon wasn't getting himself into trouble.

Which was good advice to take for himself, FP reflected as he tied his sneakers.

"What are you doing, dad?" Jughead leaned out of his bedroom, no doubt to investigate the cause of Trigger's excited tapping on the hardwood floor. He noticed the sneakers and moved to join FP. "I'll come with you."

Jughead had returned from Michigan with a protective streak when it came to his father, to go along with his heightened sense of responsibility (or perhaps mild hyper-responsibility, as FP's 'couples counselor' had cautioned him to watch for signs of, a condition that Davies said could not possibly be a problem because "being responsible is just good sense, and a little more of it isn't a bad thing - especially when it comes to Jones." Brandon brought a unique perspective to quite a few topics.).

But discovering his father and godfather tied up on the raft had shaken Jughead badly (something FP wouldn't mind doing quite literally to Brandon, since he'd recently learned that Jug had been told how close FP came to falling into the lake and drowning), and Jughead had watched at first for PTSD symptoms - even hovering at night to see if FP had nightmares - and then when he'd accepted that his father was not experiencing psychological symptoms, he had settled into his current state of vigilance regarding 'watching each other's back.'

It was endearing, and FP enjoyed spending the time together, whether that meant training or just making the effort to line up their schedules so that they could run errands together or relax together - but he could not take his shadow along this time.

"That was an awful lot of partying; I was planning to take a few minutes of quiet to clear my head." FP smiled in response to Jughead's dubious expression, though his stomach clenched as he lied yet again. He'd gained a lot of respect very quickly for the job Jughead had when he'd returned from debriefing and lied - and lied, and lied - and also for the increasingly adept lying that Jughead presumably continued doing to this day. It was not easy, and it felt lousy.

"Lock up behind me; I'll have Trigger, and I don't want to be thinking about you here, all alone, learning how to edit photos. Or drooling over places to rock climb." FP had been pleased by Jughead's enthusiasm over the birthday gifts - photo editing software and his own rock climbing gear to match Archie's -, but it was already apparent that he would be more than capable of spending hours doing much the same work on his digital photos that he'd once done in a darkroom with film. "Someone could steal the refrigerator and you probably wouldn't even look up."

"I won't let anyone take the refrigerator. _And _I'll lock up," Jughead eyed Trigger. "If you get him used to late walks, he'll get off his schedule."

"Flexibility is important too," FP spoke with finality as he stood. "Don't train him to be too rigid or we'll never be able to go on another vacation."

Jughead looked up with interest at that; they had not discussed planning another vacation, but FP figured he'd let Jughead take his time and explore options for the following summer. They would not have a lot of summers together before he was off to college, and Jughead seemed to enjoy the planning and anticipation almost as much as the vacation itself.

"Don't stay out too late." Jughead handed his dad his phone from the table by the door.

FP raised an eyebrow at his son, but when he didn't see a trace of humor in his expression, he let it go without cracking a joke.

Hopefully this would not take long.

**00000**

**And we're off! This one's got a relatively distinct shape in my mind already for much of it (and then, well... there's sort of a ski jump into the void? ;), and I'm feeling it. And, as always, reviews encourage me immensely - both the short notes just to say 'I'm reading' and the incredibly lovely and detailed ones. :-D**

**Thank you for reading! I hope you are looking forward to a fantastic weekend. :)**

**-Button**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two! :-D And already some answers, because Chapter One did raise a lot of questions. :)**

**And this is the super-long-note chapter, since I get to chat with everyone about two chapters. :-D**

**Thank you so much for the thoughtful and lovely reviews, both on the conclusion to YCHT and the first chapter of Shifting Territories. The risk with this story is that there was a great ending to the series when Brand returned to Toronto... and yet I was not done finding out what happened. So the off-roading is commencing (again). What more can be said? **

**Thanks for reading! That's what!**

**Skyrider45, I'm so glad you like the line about missing the boat. I was a little too amused (usually a bad sign) and that was reassuring feedback! Agent Donn out of nowhere! I've been hoping it would be satisfying and not a disappointing deus ex machina. Jughead did regress quickly, yes - and I so enjoyed FP in that scene. He's a powerful guy, and he is done with people using Jug to get to Brand (or to FP). Fred grounds us again and again, I think (so much love for him!). And I'm glad you liked the diving scene; Jug and Betty are figuring it out, but they are very different, I agree. And yes, that very real moment of talking through 'if we die, there is a plan' felt important to me. I'm so glad you liked the goodbye scene and epilogue, too. :-D Those two are my favorites by Heinlein, and I adore Lewis in particular. Grossman's books (not so much the show adaptation) have a heavy Lewis (and Rowling, but that's less surprising) influence. (end of pitch ;) I'd go see your movies! Your goals remind me a bit of Doris Egan (love her trilogy, just discovered through Wikipedia that I also love quite a few of the shows she's worked on - _Smallville_ is my beloved superhero show!); rock on! I am (sadly) not surprised that the time depth can be confusing (my biggest continuity errors tend to involve time - especially day of the week, haha - and occasionally a missing/reappearing item that I had to write my way out of, which was hilarious/annoying), so I took a moment to actually clarify that in this chapter for everyone's sanity (and to keep myself on the straight and narrow!). I really loved Betty and FP as well; I think they should get some time to grow together. I love that Alice is reading consistently for you. She's growing and changing, and not quite central enough to the story (of late, anyway) for us to get to see the changes happening every step of the way, but I don't want her to seem like a completely different person. Thanks for that encouraging feedback! The internship makes me so excited too. :-D And yes - FP's on his turf now and feeling (much?) more confident. I'm looking forward to seeing that play out. :) Thanks so much for continuing to read!**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you for the wonderful reviews! I love it when everyone is playing everyone (obviously) and the results are unexpected. I'm so glad the Donn reveal was satisfying! I had visions of it being a deus ex machina reveal, and that was not what I was going for. He's terrifying, I agree - if Brand is worried, that's bad news, especially considering their dynamics in relation to Rose. And poor Jug! And yay FP! He needs to get to shine. Giving Jughead the majority of POV for that scene was an interesting challenge, but fun; definitely my number one rewrite spot in that chapter. Awww, I love Kevin's relationship with his dad. :-D I did not give Tom, Fred, and Mary POV until after the fact because that was a super painful thought, yes. I had to look away until it was all over! Also, yay - "heartwarming yet painful" was exactly what I was going for (or what I thought I ended up with, at least), so that is great to hear confirmed! I am going to throw in some flourishing bows here, too, as I thank you for your generous compliments. :-D Here's to remaining spoiled by your reviews and continuing to spoil you with the never-ending story! I'm so glad you're along for the ride, and that the prologue did not disappoint! I love your guesses, and you're going to get more info in this chapter (woo-hoo!). I also loved the cooking session; we've really earned some happy times, and I think we're going to see some in this story. Yay! It was neat that you zeroed in on the passage about incidents becoming proportionally smaller. Thanks! :) The balance between "moving on/letting go" versus "being shaped" and "learning/growing" from experiences is one that I've been thinking about a lot for this story. We'll see how that looks for everyone! Alice has an arc (is this the first time she's made the initial chapter? I think so.), and I'm eager to see her happy as well. I'm hoping this story is the one for her. Team Alice for the win! I'm so glad you liked the Brand/FP shift, too! I've been seeing that one coming since Alice's article (that was a mic drop moment for Brand's perception of FP), and I think it's going to be a complex dynamic. And I totally agree: we probably have a fully-developed problem on our hands in the Southside by now. It's been long enough and it's been tense enough for months! Yay for the photo, and Trigger is definitely wildly impressive - Jug has been immaculate in his training, I agree. I look forward to hearing your thoughts as we get more of the plot lined up!  
**

**Guest, thank you so much for your kind review! Good eye: Roy is still out there. Brand didn't catch wind of anything, but he might suspect (I'm guessing we'll find out!), and I totally agree: poor FP. He's been working so hard. He's up to the challenge, but I think he's exhausted too. I agree about Jug: "Bless him" is the right phrase for all the internal workings last chapter. :) And Brand is definitely displeased by Donn's efforts... even though they were unsuccessful. I loved that you mentioned the scene where FP invites Brand to stick around! That one was tough writing, and I was really partial to it since those two really haven't had a conversation like that before - at least not that we've seen. And oh, I loved that line about Fred becoming Jug's guardian as well - I am so glad it's a favourite for you! I hope you enjoy this story just as much, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts as it get going. Thank you for continuing to read!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

FP felt as though he'd had enough excitement over the past year to last him several lifetimes.

At least this evening's foray should go smoothly: he assumed that he'd take everyone by surprise and that would be the end of the issue. With any luck, permanently.

But he was still tense as he walked toward Fox Forest, following Jughead's typical route with Trigger - past the end of the streetlights and into the less residential portion of the walk. It wasn't really possible to relax when waiting to be jumped by a violent gang.

Even if it was your own.

Which was quite the story.

The grumbling had begun months before, but FP had been able to ignore it - even when it spiked for a time after Jughead's unexpected venture into the Southside to go swimming in Crystal Lake with Kevin and Joaquin.

But then it had picked up a startling amount of speed shortly before Jughead's birthday. Some of the Serpents had decided that it would be appropriate - thematic - to use that as an occasion for shoring up their demands with a few threats against his boy in order to 'encourage' FP to be a little more active in his advising of the gang.

Consulting, if you will.

There was no law against having friends, and the occasional conversation about hypotheticals over a steak dinner. These chats never took place in the Southside; everything was just as it should be as far as the custody police were concerned.

But every time FP had put out a fire, three more started - and the same accusation was made, again and again: that he could have stomped them out once and for all by taking a more active role with the Serpents.

And he would not.

For one thing, all questions of custody aside, his son was getting a security clearance. That meant that he needed his father - his custodial parent - to keep his nose clean, or else Jughead could wind up in trouble due to his father's associations. Losing that clearance and internship would devastate him, and he'd likely then be barred from a whole range of opportunities. It was probably only Brandon's considerable influence that had gotten his boy over the hurdle of his connection to FP's mottled past in the first place.

For another thing, if FP _had _been considering stepping back in with the Serpents - and he had not - the best way to make him avoid them like the plague was any attempt at leveraging him with threats against Jughead's safety. In fact, there was likely a rift forming among the Serpents between those who had considered that a viable strategy and those who had known from the outset that it was the worst possible approach to getting FP's ear.

In any event, there had been a few threats.

FP knew better than to issue explicit ultimatums in response. Those would give the gang something firm that they could kick against or try to manipulate. However, keeping one step ahead and making sure that nobody knew what to expect from him said everything that he intended to convey:

They could not maneuver him into a role that he did not wish to take up again.

FP was ready to underscore that message with his actions, and to deal with the Serpents firmly and with finality.

It was an oddly single-minded focus for the gang, though. Getting FP back full time had been a primary goal of theirs for months now, and FP had not been sure what to make of their obsession with getting him - only him - back to deal with the unrest in the Southside.

And then Brandon had contacted him.

There was a rogue faction. The Serpents' near-frantic attempts to get FP back suddenly made sense.

The splinter group within the gang had their heads down, and likely comprised Serpents on both sides of the "threaten/don't threaten Jughead" divide (because this faction was too clever by half, if Brandon's intelligence was as good as he promised), helping to keep them invisible within the ranks.

The members of the faction were on the move, too, boldly making connections, alliances, and enemies that had endangered quite a few unsuspecting Serpents who had walked into situations that they did not expect or understand. As always, fear and paranoia had been contagious. FP was the only panacea they could see.

Eventually, the faction's reach had extended into Blossom's former territory in Montreal.

And 'someone' had flipped out.

Brandon clearly did not realize that FP knew Dom, let alone that they'd sat down together in the spring to cagily discuss Jughead and the situation in Toronto. But FP could play the smoke and mirrors game if Davies wanted it that way, so 'someone' it was. It sounded to FP as though Rose had spent a little too much time in Toronto, and his turf had begun to look vulnerable in Montreal.

It was not vulnerable. It never was with Rose; he was meticulous about controlling what was his, and if a disproportionate number of resources shored one enterprise up, that deficit was more than offset by the valuable deterrence that resulted, preventing future attempts against his holdings before they ever began.

Making a move on his turf was not a mistake that people typically had the opportunity of making twice.

The bloodbath of underlings that had ensued in Montreal (no Serpents had turned up dead, by some miracle) was officially under investigation by Brandon's agency, a circumstance which had - naturally - resulted in Brandon being trained and promoted into position to take the lead on the ground. He knew the area; he knew the networks; he knew every criminal player in Riverdale.

Except for the Serpents, that is. Davies had avoided them for a number of reasons during his time in town.

Well, there was one notable exception: he had knifed one when a few Serpents had checked in on Jughead 'violently,' whatever that meant. FP still did not have that whole story - from either Brandon or the Serpents -, and Jug seemed to have amnesia about anything involving a knife. FP did not want to jog those memories for him if they did exist and were lying dormant for some reason.

Suffice it to say that Brandon had not become familiar with the dealings of the Serpents during his time in Riverdale.

Enter FP Jones.

Who had been lying to his son ever since.

His own security clearance was riddled with waivers. It had probably looked like an out-of-season April Fool's Day prank when it first showed up on the desk of whichever poor soul had needed to deal with it, but Brandon had accomplished the impossible: not just getting it through - which could be done - but getting it through _fast_.

FP felt a bump against his left knee and reached down to pat his son's dog.

Trigger had learned to heel with the precision of a police canine, but he was starting to pick up his pace with anticipation as they got nearer to Fox Forest. It was entertaining to see the dog realize that he was creeping up past FP and then awkwardly correct his stride so that he was back in position. Trigger kept looking up at him, too; it seemed likely that this was a portion of the walk that Jughead typically jogged or ran.

Jughead had come to love his routines, and his dog seemed to be picking that trait up from him. It was a side of Jug that FP had not seen before - not so strikingly, anyway - and he wondered if this would have been a stronger part of his son's personality if he'd had a more stable home life sooner.

Or maybe it was his reaction against all of the chaos he'd survived.

Or - FP's least favorite explanation - it could be that Jughead still took to heart everything that Donn had said to him by way of explaining his pretext for attacking - and coming very close to permanently disabling - him.

It was hard to get a bead on Jughead's motivations and reasoning sometimes.

FP also wondered what all had been said during the baking conversation earlier in the day between Brandon and Jug. He was pretty sure that today was on the calendar as the day that Brandon would begin laying groundwork with Jughead for his return to Riverdale.

That actually involved more lying and misdirection than 'preparing,' since Davies had visions of reporting for work and Jughead saying something along the lines of "I knew it" - and then everyone being in trouble over classified information having been leaked. It was a fair worry when it came to Jug, who was unpredictable at the best of times, and so FP had not objected to Brandon's approach.

In fact, had it been anyone other than Brandon taking the lead on this case with the resident agency, FP would have pulled Jughead out of that internship - where he would be at ground zero for the investigation (which Davies promised to keep him away from) as well as a stated target for at least some of the perpetrators.

But FP suspected that it might be convenient to have Jughead directly under the newly-minted Special Agent Brandon Davies' watchful eye, once his new boss got to town.

The watchful eye that Brandon had wanted to extend to FP this evening.

FP would be fine, though. This was a gang that viewed him as a silver bullet. They were begging for his attention and assistance. It would all be over as soon as anyone noticed the obvious: that FP was not a seventeen-year-old boy.

And his tacit message to the Serpents would be clear. Any attack on Jughead was - literally - an attack on FP.

FP was still assuring himself of that logic when he rounded a corner - and the first he knew of his springing the trap that had been laid for his son was when his feet were swept from under him. He dropped harshly to the sidewalk in the dark, and his first thought was that this would make identifying him as not-Jughead more difficult.

Trigger erupted into violent barking, and lunged as soon as he was aware that the leash had been dropped. FP was abruptly grateful for the dog in a way that he never had been before. Someone's arm was being pulverized, and it was obvious that nobody had thought through Trigger's presence in this altercation in any meaningful way.

Perhaps they had not realized that he was an attack dog that was only just being trained to be less dangerous to those around him.

"Mess him up."

FP _really_ wanted to identify the voice of the gang member who thought he could get away with issuing that order regarding Jughead, but he could not be sure.

And he needed to be sure before he came for the man later, with a shotgun.

The whole thing was fast enough - shocking enough - that the masked men got a few brutal kicks in before FP identified himself.

Of course, that might also be because he decided to do so only after firmly grabbing an ankle - and holding on.

The dispersal seemed a whole lot like cockroaches scattering when the lights go on, and FP took more pleasure than he probably should have in going after the Serpent he'd gotten ahold of. He wrenched the man's knee powerfully to one side, and pushed himself up from the sidewalk as the gang member fell heavily with a cry of pain.

And this time FP recognized the voice.

"DeSantos?"

It had to hurt like the dickens when Joaquin sprinted away on that damaged knee.

FP frowned after him. Joaquin might be actively seeking out trouble these days; he might even be in the faction. He'd been left without a lot of guidance or support when FP had left the Southside, and he might have been primed and ready for a new leader. But it seemed more likely that Joaquin was participating in any attack on Jughead under duress.

That idea hit FP hard, thanks to his bad habit of picturing - imagining - those still-unknown criminal activities that Jughead had been forced to participate in while he'd been in Toronto.

Joaquin came second to family, which had come to include Davies at this point, but FP could not help feeling a surge of responsibility for the teen. He sighed heavily as he climbed the rest of the way back onto his feet.

FP whistled for Trigger. The dog quickly returned from where he had been giving pursuit - Jughead had done some very nice work on that training - and FP picked up his leash.

He was sore already, and his torso would no doubt have some dramatic bruising, but FP dialed up Davies as he walked home.

It was time to give a good report, and to hope that this incident marked an end to the threats against Jug.

FP also needed to ask a few more questions about the necessary changes to his schedule with Andrews Construction before he discussed them with Fred. The paperwork had not been terrible, at least not after the practice that FP had gotten filling out endless forms and reports when Jughead had been found in Toronto and then brought home, but at this point FP had been told three different stories about the time he'd be spending with his FBI handlers over the next several weeks - or longer - once the investigation was fully underway.

His understanding was that he'd first work with an agent from the field office, so that it would not be someone who worked with Jughead at the resident agency, and later on he'd work directly with Brandon. It was already well known that he had ties to Brandon, so there would not be issues explaining their regular contact - though FP wondered if any of the confusion about his schedule and arrangements had stemmed from the other handlers wanting to avoid working with him.

He didn't _feel _dangerous, but FP knew that any information he had about an agent could probably be weaponized. And in all seriousness, if a fully trained counterintelligence asset handler was wary of getting involved with him, then he was wary right back. He wanted a handler that would have his back, and maybe even willingly get between him and any trouble. Wouldn't that be something?

Hopefully Brandon would have more of a clue than the people FP had been interfacing with so far. Honestly, these paper pushers were useless.

**00000**

"You'll be doing paperwork? Filing and that sort of thing?" Betty was on the phone getting a full update from Jughead after his first onboarding meeting for the internship, three days after they'd celebrated his birthday together.

"I tried to get them to give me a gun. No dice," Jughead joked. "But hey, I'll basically be working with a bunch of Brands. I give it a week before we're doing something crazy."

Betty was pretty sure that was not how this was going to go. "Um, maybe. Let me know."

"How are things going at _The Register_?" Jughead asked. He had taken over the living room and was lying on the couch with his legs up on the back cushions. Trigger was curled up on the couch as well, and this allowed them both to have sufficient space to sprawl.

"My mother is letting me write an article this week. Since Bryn Carter's been gone, _The Register_ could really use some more freelance writers. Do you have any interest in pitching in? We can finally put in the time and figure out how to keep your name off of anything."

"Yeah. Definitely," Jughead said eagerly. "Let me see how my schedule is next week, when everything starts, but I want to. Let's plan on it. Could Alice write something too?"

"Jug," Betty tried to think this all the way through, but the words were falling out before she was at all sure that they were a good idea. "You know that you don't have to include her in everything, right? I'm literally looking for help to cover for her mother; we might want to be careful about even _mentioning_ this to her. I really don't think it's a good idea to ask her to fill in."

Jughead frowned thoughtfully. "I didn't think of it that way. Of course you're right; never mind." He was silent for a few moments. "What do you mean about my including Alice in 'everything'? Is something wrong?"

Betty wished she'd thought this through before bringing it up.

"You... do more with Alice than anyone else does, Jug. It's nice of you, but sometimes it's like you don't leave a lot of room for other people to include her."

That seemed like a nice way of putting it - or maybe an overly confusing way of putting it. Betty stopped talking and waited for Jughead to digest her words and form a response.

There was a long pause.

"I'm trying too hard."

Maybe he did get it.

"Just a little bit. I think. Or maybe not." Betty could feel herself chickening out. This was painfully awkward. "I'm sorry, this is-,"

"No; I'm glad you said something. I just…" Jughead sighed. "I'm not sure what to do. I mean, we're friends. And you all supported me a ton when I got back from debriefing. But I don't want her to feel like I'm the only person she's allowed to talk to. Or whatever."

"Of course not." Betty tried to sound encouraging, but she had no idea what it was that she was encouraging - or how it would play out. This sounded like the tip of multiple icebergs. "Maybe talk to your dad about it? Or your counselor?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Jughead looked up when his dad walked into the kitchen. Trigger jumped up to join FP, watching him carefully for any sign that he might be taking out food. "Hey, I'll call you back later, Betty. Let me know if something comes up that I can write, though. I really want to."

"I will," Betty assured him.

Jughead said his goodbyes and then got up from the couch. "Are you still limping?"

FP was getting a glass of water. He turned to face Jughead - and to have this conversation again. "I wasn't limping."

"Uh-huh," Jughead's eyes narrowed. "Want to train today?"

"No, Jughead," FP took a long sip of water. "I'm tired."

"You're sore," Jughead corrected. "Come on. What did you do?"

"What exactly would I have done, Jug?"

FP hated this part of the whole situation. He'd begun training with someone Brandon had recommended, and that meant keeping even more things a secret in spite of evidence that he was doing a bit more than just construction work (unless Jughead assumed that Fred was really falling down on his OSHA compliance), but the 'limping' had actually been a slight favoring of his left side - where he'd been kicked a few nights back.

And Jughead had begun watching him like a hawk ever since he'd noticed his father's pained movement. His son was clearly worried, and now he was catching more details that did not quite add up.

"Do you… have a girlfriend?"

FP willed his jaw not to drop, but it was a challenge. "You went from 'limping' and 'sore' to a girlfriend? How old do you think I _am_?"

Jughead watched him silently.

And maybe that wasn't the worst cover story ever. Except FP would eventually have to produce a woman, no doubt. So maybe it was the worst cover story ever. Dang it, he needed to talk to Davies about what to do when Jughead got suspicious.

Only he'd probably advocate something insane.

"Jughead, I work construction. Sometimes I'm tired. And sore."

Jughead didn't say anything to that either.

Ah. He was trying to see how much his father would say if he just waited. FP folded his arms and gave Jughead a knowing look.

"Do you want to talk again about what happened in Michigan? With me and Brandon? I know you feel like the wolf pack nearly disappeared on you." FP did not have to fake his concern about Jughead's long-term response to that.

"I'm not being paranoid," Jughead objected. "And it's not weird that I worry about you when you're hurt."

"Uh-huh," FP's tone was ironic, though even that made him uncomfortable. He was virtually certain that it was bad parenting to pretend that your son's valid concerns were paranoia. He needed a new strategy for these conversations - preferably one that did not involve gaslighting Jughead.

And now they were staring each other down.

"All right, dad. Let me know when you're ready to talk," Jughead finally said. He took great pleasure in parroting back a lot of the lines that had been used on him.

Only this time he seemed to mean it sincerely.

Jughead began moving past his father, giving him one last worried look. FP dropped a hand briefly on his shoulder as he did so, hoping that his reassuring squeeze conveyed both that he was okay, and that he appreciated his son's protective impulse. Jughead leaned into him and his expression softened when they bumped shoulders affectionately.

Maybe part of the issue was that they hadn't trained together over the past few days. Brandon had certainly used physical affection as a 'carrot' with Jughead enough that he really seemed to miss it when nobody was patting his hair or interacting with him through near-daily training exercises and sparring.

Lying had a way of creating distance, too, and it was possible that they were both sensing that separation, even though Jughead didn't know what was happening or why.

But that was something FP could try and change.

"Hey, come back here," FP drew Jughead back toward himself and mussed his son's hair with a little more energy than Brandon usually brought to the gesture. "He's going to visit as soon as he's able, but Davies would want me to do this for him in the meantime."

"I was enjoying getting a break from that," Jughead complained, but he couldn't quite stop a smile from spreading across his face.

"We'll train tomorrow, okay?" FP wasn't sure he'd be a whole lot less sore, but it should be manageable.

"Okay." Jughead looked almost shy about how relieved he was. This must really have been bothering him.

It was so easy to get caught up, FP reflected when Jughead left the kitchen with Trigger padding along behind him. He was busy doing new, complicated tasks, and so was Jughead - and that made it a little too easy to forget that they needed more than just stability at home and in their schedules.

They needed to keep moving forward.

After all, in some ways they were still getting to know each other. It had been less than six months since debriefing, and only about three months since Davies had gone back to Toronto. The separation from his godfather was clearly weighing on Jughead more heavily as time went by, despite Brandon making an impressive effort to be available and involved over the phone (his obsessive tendencies really seemed to work for him when it came to being consistent and invested with Jughead).

In contrast, FP's natural tendency to relax as things calmed down (as Jughead showed fewer symptoms) and to let some of their rituals slide over time, particularly as their schedules booked up, was something he really needed to think about - and fight back against.

FP also figured he would need to wait a little while before he contacted Davies to talk through the best ways to manage Jug's suspicion. Because he had a feeling Jughead was going to keep tabs on him to see if his father did exactly that - reflexively checked in on whatever he was hiding.

This deep game was at least a little ridiculous.

But it was necessary, as long as FP did not want Jughead to be the one walking with a limp. Or worse.

**00000**

"Archie, I'm going to ask you to keep a secret. You can't tell any of your friends."

Archie looked up from his dinner with interest at his father's words. His parents had been getting along really well all through the summer, and that had continued into the fall. He'd been getting more hopeful about them reconciling, and this opening sounded promising.

"We'll be looking at a new job after the weekend, and as long as you keep your grades up you'll be putting in a few hours there each week."

Archie tried not to let his disappointment show. He'd been working with Andrews Construction since the summer, scaling his hours there as his commitments required - particularly football. He'd worked alongside Jughead's dad quite a bit, which had been interesting. "Yeah? That's great, dad. Where is it? Did you already get the bid?"

"We got the bid, for a few reasons," Archie's dad hesitated. "It's Southside High. They're looking into either fixing it up or making it a tear down job."

Archie's mouth dropped open in surprise. "But what about the students who go there?"

"That's why you can't talk to anyone else about this, son. Starting soon, they'll be attending Riverdale High. That will be the arrangement for at least a few months. Maybe for the whole school year." Fred gave Archie a serious look. "This is news that cannot get out before Mayor McCoy announces it. I'm only telling you because I'd like you to learn on the job while we work with Southside High, from start to finish. I don't know that you'll ever take over the company, and I know you still have mixed feelings about it, but I think you should learn enough for that to be an option."

Archie gave a low whistle in response to the idea of having Southside classmates. "Does FP know about all this?"

"No."

When Archie saw his father's expression, he knew that was likely to lead to issues - or at least that his dad thought that it might. That was nothing new between his dad and FP, but when it came to the Southside they were usually very careful to avoid conflict - or even discussions. It was too volatile a subject.

Things were a lot better on that front since FP had stopped associating with the Serpents, but it was probably still a loaded topic.

"Well, at least the Riverdale High stuff won't involve the Serpents," Archie offered encouragingly. "Just, like, their kids - if they even have any in highschool."

"Archie... a number of the students _are _Serpents. And not necessarily because their parents are." Fred wasn't sure if he was more surprised or grateful that Archie had not known that. "Biker gangs can be a little different, but generally speaking gangs often prey on teenagers who have unstable home lives - and not all gang members make it to old age. They have to replace members regularly."

"Oh." Archie absorbed that information with a slight frown. "I won't say anything to anyone." He looked over to his mother, who was being very quiet. "Are you worried they might try to recruit Jughead?"

Now his mother did respond: by laughing. "I don't think FP or Brandon would let that happen, Archie. Jughead's pretty far from anything resembling an unstable home life these days, thank heavens."

That was reassuring. "Well, you don't have to worry about me joining up. Or Veronica, or Betty." Archie grinned at the thought of the girls joining the Serpents.

"I wasn't worried about you 'joining up.'" Fred smiled at his phrasing. "Just don't mention anything about this to anyone. We'll make a trip over there on Monday to take a meeting, so see if you can have your homework done before dinner."

"Okay." Archie was not convinced that he'd ever take over the family business, but he thought his dad had a good idea about keeping options open. And this news might be mixed, but it was kind of thrilling. In a strange way, having everything settle down after Jughead's return, and even just seeing the dramatic media coverage dissipate, had left Archie a little disappointed; he found himself wishing that something exciting would happen.

And now maybe it would.

**00000**

**You got plenty of chatter from me already, so I'll just say my usual: I love reviews and they inspire me as I write. I look forward to reading your thoughts and reactions, and I so appreciate your reading along!**

**I hope you're having a lovely week! :-D**

**-Button**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three! Things are in the meat grinder for my schedule, which means things are unpredictable. This week I've been writing to give myself mental breaks (woo-hoo!), and that means a quick start off the blocks with this story, which is fun. :) I love momentum! **

**Thanks for reading along! And we had a somewhat unified response to Archie's longing for adventure, which was great - he's really jinxing us, isn't he? :-D**

**Skyrider45, you are very welcome. Math, am I right? ;) The Serpents do tend to struggle without a leader, agreed, and I think I needed another line in there to help everyone since it was waaaaay back in AWP when FP went to Montreal before Toronto - I have now added that to Chapter Two. And yeah, the awkward moments remain disturbingly easy to write - I'm right there with you. :-D I'm glad you are excited about Southside High! Me too. :) And, oh, it would be AMAZING if Netflix did that up well. I need a VotDT that knocks off socks. That's definitely my favorite. :) **

**Living Lucid Dream, I loved your strong reaction to FP knowing 'Dom'! FP made his trip to Toronto**** in search of Jug ****by way of Montreal, so this has been brewing - but since AWP nobody's said Rose's name aloud (I think the only exception is Brand, on the phone with Rose himself). I have now added a line to last chapter to smooth that. :) Thanks for the fantastic compliment about weaving threads, by the way; that is my favorite phrase for storytelling (story weaving), and it's always a relief to hear it's making sense and not giving the 'needlessly complex' vibes to readers. I hope you enjoy seeing it take shape! :) And yeah, Joaquin will be in this one. (I'm almost rubbing my hands together; I'm excited. :-D) FP and Jug are still navigating trust issues, and the transition from crisis management to consistent growth may be tough. Yay for the younger Serpents too! I'm excited to see how that goes!**

**Guest, thank you for your kind review! I'm glad you liked the first chapter (and the prologue, yay!), and I agree - their family unit is still intact, and they're finding a way to make it work. Betty's in a complicated spot to figure out (it's so tricky!) and I think things remain complicated for Alice too, yes. Jughead being himself has not made it easy, either, since I think you are right that he has not figured out all of the dynamics yet. I'll be interested in hearing your thoughts about FP and Brand's plans! **

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Brandon thinks you might need this flexibility to - what - check in on Jughead?" Fred Andrews was eyeing FP with more than a little skepticism.

"Look, if it's too much of a problem-," FP didn't have a back half for his sentence, but he knew Fred pretty well.

"I'm not saying that."

Bingo.

FP leaned back in the seat he'd taken in the trailer that served as Fred's office and headquarters. If he let the conversation dangle for a few more moments, Fred would do all of the work for him and agree to the schedule that the FBI had (finally) laid out for FP. He would not have to quit his job, and theoretically he might not even have to miss any work.

FP just needed the option of bailing quickly, in case something came up and he was needed for a consultation or a particular task.

And he could not explain to Fred what he was doing, why, or how long the arrangement of 'flexibility' during specific hours of the week would likely be necessary.

It had fallen to Special Agent Phillips, the SSA (supervisory special agent, or 'head honcho' as the man seemed to enjoy calling himself) from the resident agency, to talk FP through how this step worked. Phillips had acted as though the owner of a construction company was the epitome of the unwashed masses, which had left FP with questions about how the SSA regarded the Bureau's own asset, FP himself, who was just a lowly employee at that same construction company.

It seemed better not to ask.

Hermione Lodge was attempting to glare a hole into the back of FP's head. He was torn between giving her an overly warm smile and a wave - or continuing to ignore her presence.

"If I need a few favors later on-," Fred suddenly had a canny look.

"Of course, of course. Whatever you need, you've got it." FP couldn't imagine that Fred had much up his sleeve that would outweigh the situation with the FBI. This trade would certainly end up being in his favor. And having Fred on the record for a specific favor and FP on the record for a vague promise gave him all sorts of advantages should it later turn out to be an issue.

The glaring might be getting worse; Hermione knew this game almost as well as FP, and she'd already been more vocal than anyone on the crews appreciated about Fred's mild personality and the disadvantage that sometimes gave him with his own employees.

Which was a dynamic that FP had straightened out on a few occasions, thank you very much - he just preferred to take care of business quietly, so Hermione hadn't caught wind of the interference he ran on Fred's behalf from time to time.

But Hermione Lodge seemed to demand that FP account for himself again and again, and so he took a perverse pleasure in withholding information about his good deeds - and making the effort to ensure that his supposed 'worst qualities' were on full display when she was around.

It was a diverting game on a job that could otherwise become monotonous.

Fred hated it when FP got bored, anyway. He'd said that on more than one occasion when he'd come across the crews being _optimized_, and _inspired_, and basically improved.

So FP tried to be a little less obviously helpful, and a little more obviously obnoxious around the office. If Fred didn't know that efficiency was up, well, FP wouldn't be the one to tell him. It wasn't like the scales would tip and Fred was going to owe him anything any time soon. That much was for dang certain.

FP would do whatever he could for the friend who had helped him get back his son (not to mention protected Jughead when he'd been attacked in Michigan), and FP would do so discreetly.

But just this once, he'd play Fred like a fiddle to get exactly what he wanted.

"Thanks, Fred. I appreciate it. Jughead's doing a lot better, but I don't want to make the mistake of relaxing supervision or making him feel untethered now that we're getting busier. Who knows where that could lead."

Fred's skeptical expression smoothed into the fond smile that even an oblique reference to Jug could coax out of him. "He's doing well with his new courseload? I haven't seen as much of him now that Archie's gotten so busy, and I know classes don't usually heat up until October or so. That internship sounds like it should really help with his college applications, too. Has Jughead started thinking about where he might like to apply next year?"

"He's waiting to see how his world-record-breaking lineup of AP classes shakes out before he makes plans," FP responded with an irrepressible grin, and this time there was nothing calculated about his words as he swapped from asking a favor to boasting; he was incredibly proud of how the placement testing had gone for Jughead at the end of the summer, and it was almost a relief getting to say it out loud and having the chance to do some bragging - before he burst with pride. "But yeah, he might have some new options to consider."

FP had even called Davies to follow up after Jughead had updated his godfather about the test results, and letting Brandon gloat about how it was all down to his tutoring had not even been unpleasant. In fact, it was nice having someone FP could call when Jughead did something impressive or funny - or worrying.

And what do you know; the glare seemed to have let up on the back of his head. Hermione walked over to join the conversation.

"I'm really glad to hear it, FP." She smiled more ruefully than warmly, but even so FP might just have to take a day or two off from giving her grief.

When it had taken a village coming together to get Jug to this healthier place, it had not occurred to FP that the village itself might also get to a new and better place.

But here they were.

**00000**

Alice spun tightly in the generous - but narrow - space in her bedroom (the spare bedroom), feeling deeply satisfied by the feeling of her stockinged toes on the hardwood floor.

The music seemed to be pulsing through her heartbeat and into her shoulders - arms - fingers - and Alice felt lit up from within, and unexpectedly reminded that there was so much more to the world - to life - than she'd been able to convince herself existed so far this week.

It was as if the whole world had shrunk to comprise only Riverdale High, the Pembrooke, and points between.

But Paris was back tonight; Prague existed once again. Whole continents full of the possibility of adventure were abruptly more real than they had felt since the spring. Before the article... and before everything else.

A one-woman dance party had been a great idea for this most rare of evenings: one when she had the Lodge apartment to herself.

Her favorite counterpoint of all time kicked in, and she felt it from the base of her spine right through her neck - and when her hair swept around her shoulders, she felt her dancing transitioning from fluid and punctuated to something approaching ecstatic.

She might hurt herself if she didn't take it down a few notches. But oh, this felt amazing.

Why hadn't she done this every day? Why didn't everyone?

Alice let her body settle into a satisfying rhythmic pattern somewhere between flying Charleston and jumpstyle, and she suddenly wished that she had found a local place for partner dancing. Real partner dancing.

This overflowing expression of music was meant to be shared. It was inherently social.

If only songs never ended.

And honestly, the creative challenge of such a small dance floor was one that she could live without. There had to be a decent-sized floor somewhere around; maybe she'd find some time in the gym at school, even, when the organized sports had not taken over the space. That could be fun.

And then her bedroom door opened.

The apartment was apparently not empty after all.

Crap.

Crap, crap, crap.

Veronica was mouthing words at Alice that she couldn't possibly hear over the pounding music in her wireless headphones.

Alice slapped at her laptop and shocking silence rang in her ears.

"Um. We just got back and we're about to sit down for dinner. Have you eaten yet? You're welcome to join us." Veronica's eyes followed Alice's hand as she caught a bead of sweat that was trying to escape down her forehead.

Alice must have misremembered the schedule. She'd thought the apartment would be empty for the whole evening.

"And, um, my mother wanted me to remind you that this _is_ an apartment." Veronica did not quite make eye contact as she turned to lead the way to the dinner table. "You weren't really being loud, but we try not to disturb anyone if we can avoid it."

"Got it. Sorry." Alice took a moment to set down her headphones and put her laptop to sleep. She took a deep breath and headed out to join the Lodges for dinner.

Veronica was waiting in the hall, and shot another look at Alice. "You know... you haven't tried out for anything at school, but-,"

"I'm not that kind of dancer." Alice shrugged. She really wasn't. And this was not something that she wanted to turn into work.

"Okay. But if you change your mind, you can always just-," Veronica mirrored Alice's shrug as she trailed off.

"Thanks." Alice didn't say anything more, but it was tempting to comment on how Veronica took almost everything that she enjoyed and turned it into work. A line on her résumé. Something more official and less pleasurable.

Alice did not want to do that, but dancing had been as inspiring as it had been short-lived. All summer she had felt exhausted by the prospect of going out to find friends. Or maybe she had been feeling something more complicated than exhaustion. Now there was a new feeling of motivation rising up in her.

Maybe she could finally find a place to social dance. Maybe she'd be able to take Veronica and show her what she meant about having fun just for the sake of having fun.

That might be good for both of them.

**00000**

Alice was not sure what to make of the dinner table dynamic this evening.

It was never entirely comfortable, anyway. Dinners in the Lodge household often felt to her more like a cordial business meeting than a time of reunion and bonding, even with the warmer moments interspersed that often involved the Spanish that she was quickly picking up - but tonight both Hermione and Veronica seemed to be in more reticent moods.

In contrast with the tenor of Lodge meals, the Carters had always had a lively dynamic around the table. Mealtimes had been a prime opportunity for having at least one of her parents as a 'captive audience,' and in Alice's family there was no relish for the formality of a meal, or the precision of table manners. Both went without saying. Alice had certainly been accustomed to fine dining - but that was just muscle memory.

Veronica and Hermione seemed a little more self-aware when it came to their class and habits, and they clearly enjoyed bringing a New York appreciation of formality for its own sake to many of their activities.

Alice occasionally wondered if they realized that one of the perks of having money and class was also having the option of blowing the whole thing off from time to time without repercussion. But she also realized that might not be the New York way. And there seemed to be a heartfelt sincerity to the way in which both Hermione and Veronica recreated their personal version of New York City culture within their apartment.

Alice had previously been the one in her family's household who had prevented anyone from taking themselves too seriously, but she was not blind: that approach would be disruptive at best to the Lodges, and perhaps downright offensive.

It seemed like both Hermione and Veronica saw mealtimes as a ritualized break from their packed schedules, when they could relax with a newspaper, update one another on their latest projects, and raise topics of conversation as they were inspired.

But tonight, for whatever reason, the silence was deafening.

Nothing seemed to be wrong; Alice examined Veronica's relaxed posture, where she silently picked at her dinner and read an article that they'd been assigned to analyze in their shared Political Science class.

Hermione looked like she was fully at ease as well, swiping on a tablet while she alternated between sipping a glass of wine and slowly eating the last of the wild rice that remained on her plate.

There had not been a 'bring a book to dinner' memo. Alice really did not want to be the one to break the silence, either.

"_Mija_," Hermione finally spoke, "I'm going shopping on Saturday. Do you need anything? Also, I know that you're booked solid this weekend, but I'd really like to get a pedicure on the calendar before too long. Do you think you could fit me in next weekend?" Hermione's smile was warm and her tone lightly teasing; she knew as well as anyone that Veronica would make time for her.

"That sounds great, mom," Veronica looked up with a smile in return. "Could you get me some lightweight gloves? The weather is finally getting chilly and my old ones are really worn."

Alice looked back and forth between them, feeling invisible and fervently wishing that this were the kind of household where she could disappear with her food into her room.

As if reading her mind, Hermione reached a hand toward Alice, stopping just short of actually touching her. This was her compromise between being nurturing and giving Alice space, and Alice wished that Hermione would not do it at all - or that she would just hug her already.

As it stood, Hermione's awkward gesture was a frequent reminder that for the most part nobody touched her (pretty much ever), now that she had been orphaned by the judicial system. Or by her parents' insane criminal actions. However you preferred to put it.

"Would you like to come shopping with me, Alice? You're more than welcome to come for the pedicure as well. I don't want to tear you away from any commitments this weekend, but I'd love the company if you're free."

Alice weighed this carefully. She did want to get to know Hermione better, since she'd presumably be living here until she went to college. However, the legalities of accessing her parents' funds had still not been resolved, so Alice was living here on the sufferance of both Hermione and Veronica, and going on a shopping trip might not be the most politic of activities to engage in when anything purchased would be a gift. Charity.

Maybe even resources diverted away from Veronica, which was something Alice _really _did not want to have to think about.

On the other hand, it was an activity that Mrs. Lodge enjoyed, and she did not do a whole lot of activities outside of her work - bookkeeping for Andrews Construction - and socializing with her own friends.

"That would be fun, Hermione." Alice nodded. She'd been told to call Veronica's mother by her first name, as if she were a stepmother or something. It had taken a little getting used to, but Alice did agree that it was the best fit under the circumstances. "Thank you."

"Oh, of course - you should feel free to tag along whenever you like," Hermione gave Alice the warm smile this time. "I know how independent you ladies are, but any time you feel like spending time with a boring old mother, just let me know. You can show me what you like to do, Alice."

Alice smiled, but it was a little strained. She was not feeling independent - she had almost nothing on her schedule outside of school and working on _The Blue and Gold_ \- and being invited to 'tag along' sounded suspiciously like a description of her current role in the Lodge home.

That was a depressing thought.

Not quite as depressing as the thought that Jughead - someone else's boyfriend - was the only person who actually liked her personality, understood her position in Riverdale, and _got_ her in any meaningful way.

Or her increasingly strong sense that it was only a matter of time before Jughead's friends began pressuring him to leave her out of their group hangouts because it was so hard to mesh their Alice-and-Jonas dynamic with his other friendships.

And there were not a lot of ways to make that easier. Over time, keeping the majority of their friendship more private - through long phone calls and occasional hangouts involving just the two of them - had begun to feel like they were hiding something. The fact that Jughead often seemed relieved to have offbeat conversations that Alice could not imagine him initiating with Betty seemed problematic, too.

For instance, they'd recently speculated about whether there would be a monetary settlement in Jughead's favor, and whether Alice's college fund might go to him. Jughead had pointed out that at least it would free the funds up, and then he could give them to Alice. She'd been horrified and told him that a settlement would only be awarded because _he _should have the money - and so if that happened he should keep it. It would just be from her parents' assets (not necessarily her college fund), and it was probably all ill-gotten gains, in any event.

Jughead had thought that whole line of reasoning was 'messed up,' and he'd threatened to spend the funds frivolously if Alice would not accept them for her college expenses. He'd made a game of coming up with ridiculous ways to blow the money, making ludicrous suggestions in order to persuade her to accept his offer - of a hypothetical settlement in the amount of her college fund.

It was ridiculous; it was sweet.

It would have horrified anyone else to hear them laughing and joking that way.

And _that _was what it boiled down to: nobody else understood, and unfortunately she was in someone else's space, living pieces of other people's lives, and taking up someone else's resources pretty much at all times these days.

Alice was not dumb, either: if Betty did not resent that dynamic already, she soon would. Veronica certainly raised an eyebrow over it. Archie constantly tried to guide Alice and Jughead into mundane, polite conversations - the boring, surface stuff. FP looked at her like she was some sort of femme fatale trying to seduce Jughead away from Betty, take him back to Toronto to fight crime with Agent Davies - and probably get him hooked on drugs while she was at it.

Tagging along sucked.

But she'd take what she could get. And she would be grateful.

It renewed her resolve from earlier in the evening, too: she really would have to find another group of friends soon. Maybe locating a venue for social dancing would be her first foray into meeting new people locally.

Some people were of the opinion that the more circles you ran in, the more opportunities you had to have things go wrong, or to have drama crop up. Alice disagreed: she was firmly convinced that with enough separate groups of social support, you always had someone who was happy with you and eager to spend time.

Just thinking about the prospect of meeting new people made her feel better.

"What time were you planning to go shopping?" Alice smiled over at her gracious host.

**00000**

"You're the intern?"

Jughead kept his head down and nodded quickly. He'd tried a variety of responses to that question, and so far everything had been… wrong.

At least people seemed not to recognize him since he was so far out of context - especially with his hair grown out again since the big interview at the beginning of the summer, and with his name no longer 'Jonas Davies.'

Well, aside from the one older agent - who might even have worked on his case, though it had not been handled by this resident agency. That man had heard his name, given him a look of horrified recognition, and then turned on his heel and walked away quickly.

That had been fun.

Thankfully that had not been the supervisory special agent for the resident agency. Having everyone's boss treat him like he was diseased (and highly contagious) would probably make everything much, much worse. Special Agent Phillips seemed to have no reason to interact with an intern, though, and that suited Jughead just fine.

Because 'interacting' didn't seem to be going well.

"They get younger every year, huh?" A woman walked past, noting the exchange and smiling as she commented.

"How old _are_ you?" The man looked very uneasy.

"Seventeen," Jughead looked up cautiously, gauging his reaction to this news.

"Huh." The man looked him over critically. "Dress older tomorrow."

Jughead was wearing the clothing Brand had brought him in Toronto, at Jameson's. He had two other professional outfits from the shopping he'd done with Brand before the trip to New York City at the beginning of the summer, but that was about it. He wasn't sure what 'older' meant in this context.

"Should I… wear a tie?" Nobody else was wearing a tie.

The man blinked at him. "Yup. You're seventeen all right."

Wrong response. Again.

Jughead waited for further instructions, or any more information, but the man simply walked away.

The minutes ticked past, and Jughead stayed put. He'd been told to wait here, and not to get in anyone's way.

A woman approached him, and Jughead looked up hopefully. "Yeah, I'm here for you. I'm Agent Williams. You can come with me, but don't think for one minute that I'm going to be stuck babysitting you just because I'm female."

Jughead hoped this was not how all internships worked. They had a bad reputation, sure, but this was getting very uncomfortable.

He fell into step behind Agent Williams, trying not to look up at the people they walked past.

Williams led Jughead into another room in the maze-like building that seemed to have an awful lot of very small rooms and offices.

Jughead had not spent time imagining what a resident agency would look like, but this was definitely not even close to what he would have imagined. It seemed outdated and ugly, and oppressively heavy with brick and cinder block construction - and not even remotely optimized for workflow.

Maybe renovating a secure building was complicated.

"This is our other intern." Agent Williams pointed out a tiny folding table in one corner of the small room they'd entered.

Sitting in front of a laptop at the table appeared to be a graduate student, very precisely stubbled and floppy-haired like some kind of hipster GQ model, but for some reason dressed as though he was living out of his great-grandfather's suitcase. His outfit was worn brown plaid, his suspenders looked like they might give out any second, and it was all wrinkled.

Maybe that's what 'dressing older' meant. Jughead tried to take it all in, so he could attempt to imitate something along those lines later.

"Going to a wedding?" The other intern sized up Jughead in a glance. "Or… prom?"

Jughead flushed red when Agent Williams laughed meanly at his expense.

"Hey, Clark, you fought for this internship, warts and all; he's your problem for today." Williams clearly saw an opportunity to offload Jughead, and she was going to take it. "Keep him out of anyone's way, and make sure people send him and nobody else to do anything child-proof that comes up."

Jughead dropped his eyes to the floor when she laughed at her own joke. Brand had worked so hard to get him this internship, and somehow he'd managed to screw it all up by dressing wrong - saying things the wrong way - by acting too young somehow. He'd just have to do his best to not make anything worse, and hopefully he could prove himself by working hard and being useful.

Clark gave Williams a few moments to get out of earshot. "Who _are _you?"

"Jughead Jones. The third."

"Huh. Okay. Who do you know?"

Jughead eyed him, not sure where Clark was going with the question.

"Nepotism isn't allowed, so it can't be a family member. Who got you in so far over your head that you can't look anyone in the eye?"

Jughead crossed his arms and looked squarely at him. "I'm here. I'm not leaving."

Clark pointed to a folding chair. "Sit. I'm not trying to kick you out. I might even be the only person who's going to be straight with you."

Someone walked past and Jughead recognized a man who had sworn emphatically when he'd learned that Jughead was under eighteen and taking up an intern position. "Good luck, Clark. Don't breathe too hard on that one."

Clark watched the man walk away. "Ah. Never mind; it looks like everyone's already being straight with you. This is not a place to wander into with no clue, and with every liability known to man until your next birthday. Please tell me that's soon."

"It was last weekend." Jughead studied Clark carefully. This might be an ally, but he was not sure yet.

Clark snorted. "Figures. So it's someone with massive influence, and that's not making you any friends. Have you even held a job before?"

"Yes," Jughead replied defensively. "What am I supposed to do? I can work. Just give me something to do."

"That's the problem. You're underage, so this is tricky," Clark shrugged. "I don't know what anyone had in mind when they okayed this. You do have a clearance at least, right? I'm sure they wouldn't let you in here without one."

"Yeah."

"Okay. For now, then, just watch me work. It's only slightly better than watching paint dry, but that's the best I can offer until someone with actual authority comes up with a plan for you."

Jughead stared at him.

"You've already got it down. I like a fast learner." Clark smirked. He turned back to his laptop. "Here's what I'm working on."

Jughead scooted his folding chair closer so that he could see clearly, but when Clark looked over at him he quickly slid the chair back a few inches.

"Personal space." Clark waved a hand between them.

All right, then. Jughead could mostly see what he was doing from here, anyway, so he settled in to learn what he could.

**00000**

Archie grabbed the water bottle that he'd brought along for FP when he hopped out of the truck that he'd just driven up to their current construction site. They'd be unloading the lumber together, and then Archie had another two hours that he could spend helping with framing before he had to get to his workout with Kevin. He'd be fully warmed up, and earning money while doing so - and gaining both skills and experience.

Archie was saving up not only to keep his gas tank full through the winter, when construction work slowed, but also in case he did not get an athletic scholarship that covered room and board for college. He was already thinking about apartment prices, since living off campus sounded appealing.

"Thanks, Red." FP accepted the water and took a long drink. "You made good time."

"I'm not sure how some of these guys make a run last as long as they do." Archie smiled good-naturedly. "You'd think someone was hiding things on them."

"Oh, yeah. To ask them, you'd get the impression that it's a regular scavenger hunt." FP grinned appreciatively. "We always get further on the days you come out on a job. Let's get this unloaded so I can have you work on the framing with me. I'm planning to knock out as much as we can before you meet Keller."

FP enjoyed hearing about Archie's training schedule, which he thought was overkill - but always entertaining.

"Sounds good, Mr. Jones," Archie hopped up into the bed of the truck while FP finished off his water. "I need to get warmed up, so put me to work."

"I've told you a hundred times; I'm just FP at work. And we'll wear you right out," FP promised. "Keller's gonna leave you in the dust. Or are you weight training today?"

"Weight training," Archie confirmed. "So I'll do any heavy lifting today. Gotta fire up my muscles."

"I can live with that." FP accepted the materials Archie was handing him down from the truck.

Jonathan came over to help. "Want to learn something new today, Archie? Don't let this guy hog you. Not while I'm working on some masonry this week that you'll want to see; we don't get a lot of jobs that call for anything this elaborate. I could really use a hand from someone who won't screw off, too."

Archie passed Jonathan some lumber with more energy than he'd been putting into it a moment before, and Jonathan almost fumbled it. With FP it didn't matter, but with the other guys Archie often felt slightly more aggressive and physical when they were working together. The other workers batted back and matched his energy, and it had become a satisfying dynamic. In many ways it felt like a good scrimmage.

"You'll be doing it all week?" Archie waited for Jonathan's nod. "Rain check? I'll be back out tomorrow for a couple of hours, and I already said I'd frame with FP today."

"Got a full dance card, this one." Jonathan eyed FP with a sly smile. FP gave him an overly innocent look. "I'll have to be quicker next time. I'll take you tomorrow. Do you know your schedule for next week?"

"I'm not looking that far ahead." Archie thought of his father's instructions to clear his Monday evening. Who knew what he'd be expected to spend time on once the Southside High project began.

"Smart. Get a bidding war going." Jonathan nodded sagely. "You've got this down already."

Archie grinned as he continued unloading the truck.

**00000**

Betty FaceTimed Jughead that night. "Hey, Jug. You look tired."

Jughead smiled at his girlfriend. "Wow; thanks, Betty. You look great, as always."

Betty laughed. "Sorry. You look great too. Just tired. Was it a rough first day? Orientation can be really stressful."

"You're not kidding. Question for you: do you have any idea how mad the FBI might be if I bring in a falsified passport tomorrow and go back to being nineteen? Because fraud may be the lesser evil right about now," Jughead said.

"Oh." Betty frowned. "Is there a lot you can't do because you're under eighteen?"

"Try everything." Jughead sighed. "I'm used to being pushed into everything all at once and catching up really quickly. It wasn't fun stumbling through things with no clue when I was working with Brand, but this is definitely worse."

"Did you... make any friends? People who could help?" Betty wasn't sure she had much advice or encouragement to offer. This sounded like it would be difficult to work around. "Or maybe you should just call Brand. Try to figure things out with him."

"Yeah, no." Jughead winced. "Brand's part of the problem. It's the closest thing to nepotism that exists for these internships, and apparently the fact that I didn't even apply is the most offensive thing possible. The other intern? He's a grad student. He's twenty-eight, and he's got more international experience than I'll probably ever have." Jughead gestured expansively. "His application process for the internship was insane, and everyone at the resident agency expects interns to be really useful and knowledgeable from day one. His stories are unbelievable."

"Is _he_ a friend at least?"

"I'm not sure we're friends. Or if I'll even work with him again. I was sort of dumped on him for the day, which is not exactly the start of most legendary friendships, you know? I basically watched him work for hours and bugged him with questions." Jughead looked entirely unsure of himself as he described the awkward hours he'd spent with Clark.

Betty tried to look sympathetic instead of worried. That really did sound bad. Maybe Brand had done something unwise - and maybe there was no possibility of things getting better for the duration of the internship. If the issue was being underage, it was not like that was going to change any time soon.

"At least I can wear regular clothes." Jughead shrugged. "Silver lining, right? I was dressed for the office today, but everyone actually dresses to match people in the community or whatever. So I can't quite wear my normal clothes, but I won't need to buy a new wardrobe."

"That's interesting. So they're not in suits all the time?" Betty was relieved; this sounded like a safer topic.

"You should have seen this one guy's face when I asked about a tie." Jughead winced again. "Today was awful. It's got to get better, though, right? I've just got to get past the hump. How was everything at _The Register_?"

"I didn't go in to the offices today. I was working on my article, though. Want to hear about it?"

"Absolutely," Jughead relaxed on his bed. "Take my mind off of the horrors of government work."

Betty laughed and began filling him in on her research.

**00000**

Kevin felt good after his powerful workout with Archie, who was not quite outstripping him in their training, but who had caught up quickly over the summer and was not slowing down one bit now that they were firmly into the fall.

He was meeting Joaquin at Pop's, after a high-protein dinner with his father. The Kellers' conversation over the meal had been awkward - and Kevin was not entirely certain, but he might have just been asked to narc on anything suspicious that came up with Joaquin about the Serpents. Or maybe it was just his dad's usual request that Kevin share what was going on in his life, and particularly anything that was bothering or troubling him.

The problem was that it was getting very complicated when it came to Joaquin.

Ever since the summer (well, okay, it was really since the 'incident' at the lodge in Michigan), 'Sheriff Keller' the professional lawman had been more of a presence in their home life. Some of that was nice; he and Kevin went to the shooting range a little more together, and they discussed serious topics more frequently. Kevin felt like he was growing into more of a man in his father's eyes.

However, it sometimes seemed like his father did not entirely approve of the man Kevin was growing into, so that was the bad part: it often felt less like being _treated_ like an adult than being _tried_ as an adult whenever issues arose.

All of that was unfortunately timed, too, because Kevin was pretty sure that his father was reacting not just to the events of the summer, but also to the shift that Kevin himself had been noticing in Joaquin. And with his father already reacting poorly, Kevin did not want to throw fuel on the fire by sharing his own concerns, even as those picked up speed.

It was possible that his father would have helpful insights and advice, but it was also possible that he'd ban Kevin from seeing Joaquin. It was not worth the risk.

"Kevin," Joaquin greeted him as he joined him in the booth that Kevin had claimed. "Want to get out of here?"

Kevin did, but he also did not. "Maybe in a little bit? We just got here."

"Sure, okay." Joaquin pulled out his phone and began to scroll. He tapped out a response to something, scrolled a little further, and then began a second message.

"Uh, Joaquin?" Kevin was guilty of checking his phone when they were together, but he very rarely sent messages while they were together - and when he did, he always explained what he was doing so it would not seem like he'd rather be elsewhere, doing something other than spending time with his boyfriend.

"Sorry. Important work." Joaquin widened his eyes momentarily for emphasis and to convey his annoyance with the demands of whatever was on his phone. "Everybody's leaning on me to figure out stuff. I don't even know what's what, but they just keep on texting me. The last, great hope - that's me."

Kevin really wished that his father had not given him marching orders about reporting back. If he told Joaquin, that would make his boyfriend tense. If he told his father even these cryptic tidbits that Joaquin was sharing, his dad was liable to lay down even more rules.

Lying to everyone was exhausting, but Kevin didn't see another good option.

"You know what? We can just go," Kevin relented. They stood, and Joaquin led the way out of the diner.

Kevin watched him walk with a frown. "Are you limping?"

Joaquin shot him a smirk over his shoulder. "Oh, yeah. MMA throwdown at the Wyrm the other night. I didn't make it far, but you should see some of the other guys. They are messed up."

Kevin made a face, since he knew that Joaquin was far from the most experienced fighter among the Serpents and this sort of thing worried him - but it was also, admittedly, a little appealing. They were both athletes, training and working hard in different ways. Kevin appreciated that it was something they had in common.

And, despite his concerns, he'd like to see Joaquin fight sometime.

"So, what's the work stuff?" Kevin asked conversationally as they crossed the parking lot.

"Oh, you know - the usual headhunting crap," Joaquin's smirk turned more sardonic. "Everyone wants a piece of DeSantos. I'm good at what I do, and I'm saving up. Gonna get my own place."

Joaquin lived with a few of the older Serpents, sharing a trailer that one of the men owned.

"Bidding everyone up?" Kevin smiled. He wasn't sure what Joaquin did, but he appreciated that his boyfriend was popular and talented. And at least a little ambitious.

"More like seeing how many paychecks I can draw for the same work." Joaquin held a finger over his lips. "Keep that quiet, but it's working like a charm. For now, anyway. A month or two like this, and I'll be well on my way to a down payment - and then I can extricate."

Kevin wished he hadn't asked anything. This was exactly the sort of thing his father was anxious to hear about, since there should not be multiple employers working with the Serpents like that in the Southside. He let the subject drop, and Joaquin seemed to light up in approval, as if that was Kevin's way of respecting his request for secrecy.

Which Kevin was. But this was one more concerning element, and he wasn't sure when they might cross over into it being one too many.

**00000**

**And everyone's doing something! :) I hope you have a lovely weekend, and I'll look forward to any notes you have time to leave for me. They are always much appreciated. :)**

**Take care, and thanks for reading! :)**

**-Button**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four! This week is just... yikes... :) I'm hanging in there, though, and I hope you are as well!**

**A very special thanks to Skyrider45 for letting me know that chapter two had glitched. I so appreciate your having my back!**

**Living Lucid Dream, I also love how everyone's healing as a community and hope to see more of that. :) I'm curious to see how Alice and Veronica influence each other, too... Both could use more healthy habits! I'm totally with you about the dynamics at the internship. No apologies necessary, either - it's really cool to hear everyone's rants about dynamics. :) Joaquin's arc is definitely on the move. I'm worried about him too. He's in a tough spot. I'll be interested in how you feel as his role in the story unfolds!**

**Skyrider45, I definitely think FP underestimated Fred on those favors, yeah. :-D We'll see how it plays out! Alice is still finding her feet, too; ****I think you are right that ****the friend groups are either going to grow in positive ways or get stirred right up. I loved your line "Sounds just like an internship." Alas, yes - I think getting into trouble might even be a relief for Jug at the moment. I hope you enjoy Joaquin's arc, too! I saw the older BBC Silver Chair, and just got caught up on the gossip about the new film (maybe?) in the works... Here's hoping!**

**Guest, thank you for the great reviews! I also really like FP and Jughead trying to outsmart each other. They're trying to have a normal home life, but neither is fully ready just yet. I loved your observation that Archie is a bit sheltered, and now FP and Brand are trying to shelter Jug at least a little bit - although the school stuff may make that a challenge. I'm glad you're excited for that to play out! :) I have a lot of sympathy for Alice, too, and I entirely agree that Archie is having a _much_ better work experience than Jughead at this point. Joaquin is definitely getting into stuff that sounds sketchy, too... and I hope you like this chapter! :) **

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Intern, get it together. This is undrinkable; we're not in the Navy. Did you even put a filter in there?" Agent Williams spat into the sink.

"Is the decaf in the green- or orange-handled carafes? Because that is not tasting right, and we'll have a serious issue if Randall gets hold of real coffee at any point." A woman Jughead had not met laughed as she shook her head in a warning.

"Oh, forget about that - there is _flavored creamer_ in this fridge. Be still my heart." A man whose name Jughead could not recall was leaning into the tiny kitchen to get a better look at the supplies Jughead had purchased, and he was holding up a bottle with amusement. "And is this… _fake_ artificial sugar? How is that even possible? Is it some distant, rejected cousin to the artifice we know and trust? Because this crap might make my hair fall out."

"What little you have left, yeah - get right on protecting that, Taylor."

Jughead was pretty sure everyone was exaggerating how badly he'd screwed up the office coffee.

It was Saturday, so he'd started his shift much earlier than his usual after-school hours and would spend four hours or so 'working' here each weekend to round out his assigned number of hours. So far it was not off to a great start - by any measure.

"Drink this," Agent Williams was the only one who did not seem amused by the situation. She stepped out of the tiny kitchenette and held a mug in Jughead's face.

"Um, I'm not - I don't drink coffee-," Jughead tried to protest, but did not want to explain why he was not supposed to consume caffeine.

Several people were gathering around the tiny kitchen, having first come to get coffee but then wandering over to join in on the joke, and at Jughead's words a couple of people laughed; it didn't seem mean, and if anyone had offered to help him figure out what had gone wrong, this might even have become a funny story.

Nobody offered, though, and Williams was definitely mad. That might even be why nobody offered. It brought to mind Jughead's prediction that he'd be working with 'a bunch of Brands.'

Only this was worse.

Well... maybe not _worse_. Jughead should not lose perspective on how crazy things had been in the trailer and in Toronto. This was objectively nowhere near that bad, and he'd survived those first weeks with Brand. He could handle this. And he'd learned how to keep from ticking Brand off, so those skills would probably come in handy now: he was fully capable of keeping his head down and his mouth shut.

"Well, doesn't that just explain everything." Williams was not budging. "Drink up, intern."

Jughead reached for the mug and took a sip.

He gagged on something grainy.

But he'd used a filter; he'd followed the written instructions.

"You must have overloaded this thing massively. Why don't you finish drinking that - a little object lesson - and then start fresh. Bring everyone a mug at their desks. Make it black, since Taylor's not the only one who needs his health, and then go back to the store and ask an adult what real working professionals put in their coffee. We'll take it out of your paycheck."

Jughead had bought the first round of supplies with his own money, not sure what else to do, and he did not look forward to buying another set. Williams brought her hand up toward the mug he was holding, as if to push it toward his face, and Jughead quickly complied with her directive.

He took another sip and choked the grounds down with a pained glance toward the other agents and workers. They were quickly losing interest and walking away, all the while joking about the imminent demise of law and order across the nation if fresh coffee was not produced quickly and with far higher quality.

"The orange-handled carafes are for decaf." Williams walked away then.

Jughead dumped the contents of the mug down the sink as soon as he was certain that nobody could see him in the small room.

"That wasn't very nice," Clark observed as he entered the tiny kitchen.

Jughead startled, dropping the mug. He covered his face with his hands when it shattered on the tile floor.

A smattering of applause came from the room full of cubicles that adjoined the kitchenette.

Clark coughed to cover his laugh. "I sincerely hope that whoever hooked you up with this internship doesn't expect a thank-you note." He moved past Jughead and pulled the filter basket out of the large coffee machine. "The filter slipped. It happens. Check the coffee next time before you let the wolves descend. They're mean when they haven't had their morning jolt."

Jughead did not answer, but Clark's wording reminded him of Brand's nickname, the wolf pack. Maybe that was a thing. It made him want to like Clark a little more.

"I'll start another pot. Empty all of the carafes, though, because I'm guessing nothing you've done in here is safe."

Jughead obeyed swiftly, dumping the three pots of regular coffee and the single pot of decaf that he'd brewed.

"I'll get you a credit card for your next run to the store. You left a little too quickly, which I actually appreciate, but it's worth it to take a second to make sure you've got all the information before you take off. And you will go broke if you try to pay out of pocket for the coffee habit at this agency." Clark stepped back from the coffee maker and there was a crunch under his shoes. "Why don't you sweep up that mug before anyone else comes by and sees what's going on."

Jughead was grateful for the information about a credit card being available to purchase replacement supplies, and quickly located a broom and dustpan so that he could clean up the mess. At least he'd emptied the mug before it had broken.

A voice rang out through the office adjoining the kitchenette. "I hear we've got a very special intern in the house?"

Jughead looked up in surprise and recognition. "Agent Sarah?"

"Jughead!" The FBI agent rounded the corner and took in the mess Jughead was sweeping up and the coffee that Clark was assembling for the second time. "Hey, hey, I see you're fitting right in here. What a mess this place has become - I swear, ever since I left, straight downhill. You'll have to whip them back into shape for me."

"You used to work here?" Jughead dumped the shards of mug he'd gathered so far into the trash and then accepted the hug that Agent Sarah was offering.

"Oh, yeah. Before I got promoted out of this _dump_," Sarah was speaking loudly so that she'd be overheard by everyone in the adjoining offices, and the others were laughing along with her jocular tone and someone was calling teasing responses back at her as she waved them off with one hand. "Always remember where you come from, though. Words to live by. You've gotta visit back from time to time, too. Especially when they've got a VIP around."

Jughead figured she hadn't talked to anyone yet if there was any chance at all that she was teasingly referring to him.

"You're just dropping by?" Clark had started the coffee maker brewing again, and turned around to lean back against the counter. He raked a hand through his artfully tousled hair and was almost posing in his eye-catchingly retro clothing. His smile was warmer than Jughead had seen it before during the few days that they'd worked together. "That's too bad, Agent Sarah."

"You must be the lesser intern. It's Agent Quinn to you," Sarah flicked her eyebrows at him in a challenge. Or maybe it was flirting. Jughead wasn't sure, and he could tell in a glance that Clark was not certain either. "I'll be around for a few weeks, but it is just a visit. Not a transfer or anything longer term."

It was probably just the paranoia that Jughead had learned to live with, but he suddenly wondered if Brand had somehow arranged for a friendly face at the resident agency.

Oh well. There was nothing he could do about it if that was the case; Brand would be Brand. At least Agent Sarah didn't seem mad about being here.

"Unlike you two, I've actually got to get some work done. But give me a cup of that coffee before I do," Sarah smiled as she maneuvered firmly past Clark in the tight space and held a mug in place of the carafe until it was full. "See you around, interns. Keep up the good work. It's great to see you, Jughead." Sarah squeezed his shoulder before she walked away. "Give Trigger a belly rub for me."

Jughead felt a smile lingering after she'd left and he returned to sweeping up shards of mug from the floor.

"Huh. That certainly explains you being here." Clark was grinning. "Which means you're not related. Nice. She's more my age, though, don't you think?"

"I think she thinks that, too," Jughead offered, dumping more of the mug into the trash. "You have to be nice to her, though. She's pretty much the best person in the FBI."

"And you know that from your long experience working here?" Clark smirked at that. "Three days on site, and already he's an expert."

Jughead turned away, silently berating himself for the slip. He had been relieved that he hadn't been recognized by more of the people he'd met at the agency so far, and Jughead really wanted to keep it that way - especially with Clark.

There were only two types of people, according to the agents he'd met: those who worked with them, and those who needed their assistance.

Jughead much preferred the 'working with them' side of that divide.

"Put in a good word or three if you get the chance," Clark said as he set up another pot to brew. "But right now you've got coffee deliveries to make. There's a tray on top of the refrigerator that should speed you up, and you've got a pot of regular ready to go. Then get to the store and buy the plainest sugar and creamer you can find - don't waste any name brands on these philistines."

Jughead nodded, grateful for any information on what he should be doing.

"When you get back, I'll see what I can do to get you something real to work on. How does that sound?" Clark was eyeing Jughead with more interest. It made sense; Agent Sarah was really pretty, and her confidence drew every eye to her in a very different way from Agent Williams' aggression.

Not that Agent Sarah seemed to mind Agent Williams. They were hugging in greeting on the other side of the room. Jughead watched that for a moment, wondering why Agent Sarah had liked him, but her friend - maybe even close friend - had not.

Jughead hoped it was not because Agent Sarah saw him as a victim. But if it was, maybe he could change that impression during her visit to the resident agency.

"That would be great, Clark. Thanks."

"Hang in there." Clark nudged his shoulder. "You'll make it."

Jughead shrugged with a dark smile as he filled mugs and lined them up on the tray. "You might want to hedge your bets, Clark. But maybe."

"Definitely." Clark started the next pot brewing while Jughead began making his way through the office with mugs of black coffee.

**00000**

Actually doing work turned out to be a relief. It was repetitive, and Jughead was primarily looking up and verifying information online - updating it as needed - again and again for whatever case needed this amount of detailed background. Which might be all of them, actually; he didn't know that much about the work yet. But it felt good knowing that his work meant that Clark was freed up to do other work. Which meant that someone else was freed up to do something even more important. And so on.

So Jughead was facilitating something meaningful, even if he was just doing the same thing over and over, and the actual updates to the information he was checking were few and far between. It gave him time to think, too, and he wondered what Brand did on his laptop when he worked long hours.

Probably nothing like this. But still, put them both at a table - maybe not a tiny folding table, but whatever - and they'd basically look like they were doing the same thing.

And Jughead was pretty sure that he'd successfully 'dressed older.' Clark had eyed his suspenders, but smiled instead of smirked. Jughead appreciated that.

"Hey, intern," Clark was back. People at the agency called him 'Clark,' so the fact that everyone had begun calling Jughead 'intern' seemed like a dismissal, or maybe an insult, but not when Clark called him that. Jughead heard warmth in his tone - even though it was definitely a Brand version of 'warmth,' which was more gruff than anything - and he decided that he could safely put Clark in the friend category. Thank you, Agent Sarah.

Although he should probably call her Agent Quinn, since they were sort of colleagues now. Well, okay, not really _colleagues, _but it would be more respectful to call her that as long as they were working at the same location.

"Your friend was entirely won over by my charming and relentless pitch to get you in on something more interesting. Since you're clearly a machine," Clark gestured at the pile of information that Jughead had already gotten through. He _had _been awfully focused. And the praise felt great after days of everything being so wrong. "Come on. She's awesome, and I need a wingman."

Jughead did not need to be asked twice.

"Take a look at this," Agent Sarah - Quinn - had a heat map up and was toggling between two screens. "Clark, you can go finish whatever he was working on."

Clark's jaw dropped, and Jughead's eyes widened. So much for having a friend.

"I'm just kidding," Agent Quinn laughed. "You think I'd throw Jughead under the bus like that? Pull up another chair; I'll teach you how this works and show you what I'm doing here."

Jughead relaxed a bit. Other folks were in the room, in different cubicles, and they would see him working. Hopefully being useful. This might make things better, and if Brand _had _orchestrated it... well, Jughead should probably just be grateful.

"Hey intern, that was much better coffee. We'll keep you on that for Saturdays." Agent Williams stopped at the cubicle.

"Uh, it was-,"

Clark kicked Jughead hard under the small table they were sitting at.

"I mean, thanks." Jughead realized belatedly that the order was probably meant to be 'whoever made the good coffee makes it from now on.' Clark obviously did not want to be that person for the remainder of his internship. Agent Williams moved on, and Jughead turned to Clark. "Will you show me how to make the coffee next week?"

Agent Sarah shot him a surprised look and then laughed hard. "You really do fit in here. Wow."

"Of course I'll show you," Clark turned that unfamiliar warm smile on Jughead this time. Up close it looked a little fake, and Jughead hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on.

Oh yeah. Wingman.

"Thanks, Clark. You're the _best_." Jughead gave Clark an over-the-top adoring smile to match his tone. Agent Sarah laughed again, and Clark looked unsure of whether he should be annoyed or pleased when Jughead's sarcastic quip got him a second look from her.

When he settled on 'pleased,' Jughead waited for Agent Sarah to focus on the screen again before he shot Clark a mischievous grin. This was pretty much the entirety of his insight into the agent's psyche: if she saw Clark teasing and palling around with Jughead, that would probably get him more points than anything else he could do.

Clark raised an eyebrow in response, and was clearly reassessing him. In a good way.

Maybe he would make it after all.

**00000**

"I've got an article that I'd like you to write," Alice Cooper was in a good mood, and Betty had enjoyed working alongside her energetic mother in the offices of _The Register_. And this was welcome news. "Or you can farm it out to Jughead if you want. I know you've been waiting for something to come up for him."

"What is it?" Betty thought this might be great timing; she was still working on her article about the fall fair in Greendale, and this could be a nice surprise to cheer Jughead up with if his Saturday shift turned out to be as miserable as the after-school ones he'd had earlier in the week.

"I want you to write a little something about Alice Carter. I'm thinking an upbeat follow-up, all about surviving loss and making lemonade. That sort of thing." Betty's mother waved a hand in the air. "She's been featured in _The Register_ a few times, so it would be nice to publish an update. I know she and Jughead have gotten closer, too, so maybe he should be the one to write it."

"Maybe so," Betty repeated, ignoring her mother's raised eyebrow and pointed implication about Alice and Jughead. "I'll talk to him." She thought about it for another moment and then continued. "I'll ask Alice what she thinks, too."

Betty and Jughead had not talked again about the idea of Jughead spending less time with Alice so that she connected more fully with other people, but Betty knew that she needed to at least attempt to step up if it turned out that she had inspired Jughead to withdraw (even a little bit) from Alice. This article could be a convenient way of making a start on connecting more effectively with her.

"Perfect. Thank you, Betty. See that it's on my desk by Friday, please." Alice Cooper returned her focus to her laptop. "Oh, and be sure that she talks about visiting her parents in prison. She has done that, right?"

Betty had no idea. "I'll… see what I can do, mom."

"Good."

Betty rolled her eyes at the article she was working on. An interview with Alice about her parents sounded intrusive at best. Alice would probably say no, anyway, and that would be an end to it. Betty found that she hoped that would be the case.

She tried to find her place again in the revision she was completing. But she'd lost her focus.

Minimizing the article, Betty pulled up her Email and started composing a brief note to Alice, explaining her mother's request and framing it very carefully so that it would be easy to say no. Betty felt that she should at least mention the possibility that Jughead would write the article, though, in the interest of full disclosure.

She'd just have to see how Alice responded and go from there.

**00000**

FP got home from his Saturday shift, and he was relieved that nobody at the field office wanted anything from him this evening. He knew that Jughead was adjusting to the internship, and that he had been nervous about it going well; it was also mildly suspicious that he had not said much about it to his father, beyond commenting that orientation was boring and that his work at the resident agency was having a 'slow start.' Brandon had complained about not getting a fuller update as well.

It might not be a bad evening to check in, talk things over, and confirm that everything was going smoothly.

There was no doubt in FP's mind that Jughead would do well, but there _was_ the distinct possibility that he would put his foot in his mouth a few times along the way and have to navigate the resulting fallout.

On the other hand, it was probably important that Jug get this time to find his feet on his own, without Brandon hovering (yet), so that he could learn how to work things out for himself and navigate a new workplace and set of expectations. Jughead needed to figure out how to trust his own instincts - and also figure out which instincts he possessed that he might be better off ignoring.

So maybe they shouldn't talk about it unless Jughead initiated the conversation.

All the same, FP wouldn't mind Jughead asking for advice from time to time. The internship wasn't entirely in FP's wheelhouse, and it had been made abundantly clear to him that being a counterintelligence asset was not going to afford him any of the respect (or training) that came with being on the other side of the paywall.

But he was an adult. He'd held jobs and had coworkers. That should be worth something.

"How do you feel about doing some training tonight, Jug?" FP had learned that the fastest way to a productive conversation with Jughead was through some version of exercising together.

And Jughead was sprawled out on the couch with Trigger, both relaxing post-run, which should make sparring with his father at least a little more challenging. Maybe.

When Jughead got up with more enthusiasm than FP had expected, he revised his assessment: Jughead seemed to have endless energy these days. Oh, well - it would still be good to train together.

"Sure. You've been getting really good, and we should definitely shark Brand whenever he finally visits." Jughead shot his father a conspiratorial look and then led the way downstairs to the basement, where they normally trained. "I'll put Trig out back."

Jughead had done a lot of work with Trigger, but the dog still would not tolerate anyone manhandling his owner. FP didn't think they needed to train that instinct out of him, either.

Although thirty minutes later, FP wondered wryly whether Trigger would have been inspired to protect him from his son instead of the other way around.

He must really be getting better; Jughead was certainly pulling out some of the stops. FP was surprised when he went down hard - and suddenly Jughead was awkwardly attempting to catch him and soften his impact.

Which apparently involved putting his arm in the way so that it was crushed under his father's weight. It didn't help, and could have seriously injured Jughead.

"What are you doing?" FP gave him an incredulous look while he confirmed that Jughead's arm was not broken. "What about that seemed safe to you? We may be on mats, but they're not that thick - and the floor is still concrete underneath."

"Oh, wow. Sorry dad - I'm not trying to hurt you, I promise. I didn't think I'd take you down with that one." Jughead took his arm back from his father's inspection and then stood and helped pull FP back to his feet. "It doesn't seem like it should be difficult to fight _less_ well. To adjust and gauge or whatever. Brand does it all the time. But it's actually really hard."

"That is not what I'm talking about." FP shook his head. "You just put your arm under my back, knowing full well that I was going to fall on you. Your arm will break long before I do, Jug."

Jughead's expression made it clear that this had not occurred to him.

"Yeah. Let's keep practicing you taking it easy on me, but don't try to catch me or break my falls." FP couldn't help a small smile now that his initial panic response over the likelihood of a trip to the hospital was receding. "You're lucky Brandon didn't see that."

"Oh man, totally." Jughead ran a hand through his hair. "That was sloppy, and you're right; it was stupid. I'm slipping. You're great to practice with, dad, but I probably need a real instructor too."

"Maybe. Want to start looking for one?" FP figured that a search would delay the decision for a week or so, and he could talk to Davies about whether having Jughead working with the same instructor who was teaching FP would be workable. Presumably the man knew how to keep his mouth shut, but Brandon would have a better bead on how to tackle this issue. "We can do some research. Maybe try out a few."

"Or go back to Keating. I bet he still has weekly classes." Jughead grinned, and before FP could respond to the idea of revisiting the bully who had bruised half of Jughead's face - perhaps by laughing - Jughead was feinting and then maneuvering his father into a small joint manipulation hold that Brandon favored and had tried on FP before.

"Going for me where I'm weakest?" FP smirked as he broke the hold with well-practiced movements and tried a counter. He knew that Jughead had anticipated his counter when he felt Jughead use his responsive movement to lock his arms into a less painful - but still tight - hold from behind. "Nice."

"Now I just need Brand to try to rescue you." Jughead's arms were both occupied with maintaining the hold, but he was against FP's back and he leaned his head against his father's shoulder blade in a gesture that was both affectionate and teasing. "How long should I wait? I bet I could keep you here for a while-,"

Jughead was cut off when FP discovered that he could maneuver his hands enough to get a grip on his son - and then use his superior strength and mass while leaning forward to lift Jughead off of his feet and hoist him partially onto his back. "You what?"

Jughead was clearly at a loss. "Um, you're still stuck, dad."

"And you're coming with me, boy." FP grinned as he started up the stairs. It was slow, somewhat painful going, but man this was entertaining. Jughead was almost sputtering, as if it was somehow cheating to be larger than him - and to use that advantage. "If I wanted to revisit the idea of breaking your arm, I could probably just slam you into something, right? That seems like it would be a smart move if I were an enemy."

Jughead was starting to chuckle, and suddenly he released the hold, freeing FP's arms and dropping to his feet on the step below. He made a quick jump so that his arms were wrapped around FP's shoulders and he was riding much higher on his father's back. He wrapped his legs around him in classic piggy-back style.

FP thought Jughead put too much faith in his father's ability to keep them from falling down the stairs when he pulled that little stunt, but he did manage to keep them both upright. For the first time Jughead's worrying weight loss was coming in handy.

It was also really nice that Jughead was being playful with him.

FP had noticed that Jughead reserved a lot of that dynamic for Davies, and while he tried not to be competitive with Brandon, he did see it as a mode that he knew Jughead was capable of and enjoyed slipping into - but one that FP had not been able to access consistently. So it felt good, even as his back protested.

"I give up, dad. You can carry me to the ice cream if you really want to play the bad guy. That would be a smart move; I'm not sure I'd be able to resist."

"Huh. Beware kidnappers driving ice cream trucks." FP reached behind himself and hoisted Jug up so that he was positioned a little more securely before he locked his arms around his son's legs to hold him there. "And would you look at this; I actually won a bout. I only had to fight dirty."

"Krav is all about fighting dirty. You've officially mastered that lesson, padawan." Jughead ruffled his father's hair and then quickly finger-combed it back into place when his father shot him a look over his shoulder. "We'll celebrate. With ice cream."

"Good plan." FP resumed slowly climbing the stairs. He got to the top and then used the doorframe to scrape a laughing, protesting Jughead off of his back. "You can dish us up. I'll go let your dog back in."

FP smiled to himself as he took the stairs down into the basement and then followed the bounding dog back up to the kitchen.

Maybe they didn't need to talk about the internship. Jughead knew his father was here if he needed him.

**00000**

Joaquin felt his phone pulse in his pocket as he left the Whyte Wyrm to head back to the trailer that he shared with three older Serpents. He didn't spend a lot of time at home, but he was hoping to change that once he had a place of his own. He'd spend less time bumming around the bar, and more time reading, or chilling with Kevin, or whatever.

And when Joaquin checked the text message, it looked as though it contained information that might help him get another step closer to that goal.

There was some sort of rebellion fomenting within the Serpents; Joaquin had sniffed it out almost immediately as it grew legs. He was well aware that he was one of the more vulnerable members of the gang, and so he'd kept a careful ear to the ground ever since FP had abandoned the Serpents.

The loss of FP had abruptly left everyone without the sane, crafty leader who had very effectively enforced his edict that everyone do right by one another - including those gang members who did not outweigh pretty much anyone. Joaquin had some muscle, and he had his wits, but he did not have much weight to throw around when pushing became shoving.

At first, Joaquin had been able to make himself heard. In fact, in the power vacuum that FP had left behind, Joaquin had managed better than just about anyone in terms of clever strategic moves. But the first time that anyone came after him with brute force it was going to be tough. If it was two against one, he was probably toast.

For all of those reasons, Joaquin had paid close attention as things got weird. Then dangerous. That had worried him - until he'd finally caught a break and gotten in good with the rebels.

They would never be able to topple the Serpents - nobody had ever done that - but Joaquin knew that did not preclude him from becoming a casualty of an unsuccessful attempt at a coup.

He needed to take steps to protect himself.

Moreover, when he took that opportunity and then approached some other Serpents whom he knew were not a part of the rebellious faction, offering to gather intel for them, he'd set up a very sweet gig for himself.

The faction rewarded him. The loyal Serpents rewarded him. Joaquin was in nobody's crosshairs. His bank account was looking very respectable.

And now, based on this text, it appeared that the faction wanted him to do a little something extra - which always meant being paid something extra - which would then lead to being rewarded by the other Serpents when he reported back on whatever happened.

Joaquin smiled to himself as he changed his route in order to respond to the text and find out more. He reflected on how well this was all coming together.

He would never be like FP, abandoning everyone for the comforts of the Northside. Not even if he someday had kids and someone came for them the way that Blossom and Davies had come for FP's family.

Any kids of Joaquin's would be far tougher than Jughead; they'd return from whatever adventures or traumas came along, and they'd be able to suck it up. They'd grow up surrounded by the Serpents, not _shrinks_, and Joaquin would never let the state talk smack about his custody and his rights - let alone allow the cops to blackmail him into leaving the family he had here in the Southside: his gang.

Joaquin's smile gradually disappeared as he reflected on all of this.

FP had talked a good game. He'd made promises to Joaquin and everyone else, and he'd done a lot of good for a lot of years. But it was obvious now that whenever he'd referred to the rights and loyalties owed to 'family,' he had really only meant Jughead. And maybe FP hadn't known that himself until Jughead had disappeared. That seemed likely, based on how everything had played out. But Joaquin still blamed him for not coming back once things had settled down, after he'd retrieved Jughead from Davies.

Joaquin hadn't even heard from FP after he got out of prison. And wasn't that a kick in the head after everything that had gone down with Blossom.

It almost made Joaquin feel less guilty about literally kicking FP while he was down.

That whole situation had been insane, and just the memory of it made Joaquin's frown deepen as he continued to walk toward the location that had been specified in the text.

When both the faction _and _some of the loyal Serpents had pressured him to join the group that had gone out to hunt Jughead, it had sickened Joaquin. He had honestly hoped that Jughead would show off his improbable fighting skills and get away untouched. That would have earned Joaquin the goodwill from going out with the others, and he would not have had to betray FP - not to mention hurt Jughead, who wasn't actually that bad once you got to know him. They'd had a good time in Michigan.

And it turned out to be a hundred times worse when it actually played out. Realizing that they'd dropped FP to the ground, not Jughead, and attacked their leader by mistake had been one of the worst moments of Joaquin's life. That moment of recognition had not been improved at all by it also being the moment when he'd realized that FP had a death grip on his foot and ankle - and he was screwed.

On bad nights, Joaquin even wondered if FP had recognized him _before_ he'd torn into his knee so viciously. It had seemed like he had been surprised to realize that it was Joaquin when he heard his voice, but Joaquin's guilt was overpowering. It made him worry. It made him wonder if FP had known it was him all along, and that was why he'd grabbed his ankle and not anyone else's.

It was a dark, morbid place in his head. Joaquin decided not to think about it any more tonight. He had a job to do, and a goal to work toward. Nobody else was going to arrange a place for him to live, or hook him up with a nest egg and a bright future.

Joaquin would see to all of that for himself.

Focusing on his goals was reassuring. Joaquin was back to smiling by the time he reached the meeting place.

**00000**

**Things keep on going! The meat grinder continues making this week unrecognizable(!), so we'll see if it keeps me writing or pries me away for a bit. Though I'm really looking forward to chapter five, so that might carry the day... :-D I'll look forward immensely to any notes you leave! **

**Thanks for continuing to read, and I hope you're having a less exciting week!**

**-Button**


	5. Chapter 5

**So I got a little more time on the weekend and a little sleep, and somehow it all came together. Here's to a less crazy week... and a new chapter!**

**Skyrider45, thanks for the great review! I'm so glad you liked the coffee sequence and the workday unfolding from there; thank you! Clark may have some surprises along the way with Jug as his wingman, too... :-D Betty/Jughead/Alice have potential to go so many ways. I'm looking forward to seeing where they head as well, but it does not look easy! I am glad that you liked FP and Jughead getting to relax more together too. :) Joaquin is hurting my heart, yeah. I'm hoping for a happy ending for him! And you are quite welcome; no guarantees, but so far it's been a great stress relief/relaxation outlet. :)**

**Guest, thank you for the lovely review as well! I loved hearing your solidarity about making coffee; it was a little hard writing that scene because it felt so mean. Bringing in Agent Sarah and having Clark warm up was a relief! I entirely agree with your assessment of Joaquin; he's probably going to have to learn a lot, and it looks likely that he'll learn it the hard way. I'm rooting for him though - and I'm also excited about the schools merging! I hope you like this chapter! :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Alice found a bench in the upscale mall, near a large fountain. It would work just fine; she collapsed wearily onto it and pulled out her book.

She'd never known that shopping could be so exhausting. Or maybe that was just conversation with Hermione, and the feeling that she needed to be perfect - polished - impressive in the ways that Veronica always was. Conversation seemed to keep stalling out, and Alice could see Hermione becoming increasingly disappointed as she tried ever harder to draw Alice into conversations about brands and styles that she'd never worn or cared about.

Alice had good taste, but she was fashion-forward. This was a mall. She could say what looked good on Hermione, but getting enthused about anything on the racks was asking a lot of her. The creativity of thrift shopping would have been more fun, and also more in line with her budget.

And she needed a job. Looking around the mall and considering _that_ prospect was not a pleasant combination.

Alice had made an effort, though. She had attempted raising some topics that were more in line with her own interests, too, because it seemed likely that Hermione just didn't know what she enjoyed discussing.

That had not worked so well. Telling Hermione about her book had only confused her friend's mother - and also embarrassed her when she'd failed to understand that Alice was enjoying the book. Instead, Hermione had expressed her fervent solidarity in hating to be forced to read 'morbid' books for class.

Alice's expression had given away the misstep, and Hermione had been so horrified and apologetic that she would probably still be trying to walk that comment back during the car ride home. Alice was not sure how to set her mind at ease, either; she _was_ irritated. It had felt like a condemnation of her taste in reading, and she already felt insecure enough about… everything.

So, when Hermione had decided to look in one more store, this time for clothing for a weekend trip to New York that she'd been planning for the late fall, Alice had excused herself.

Sitting on this bench had been the best part of the day so far.

Alice had entirely lost track of time when a rowdy group approached. Tuning them out as much as she was able, she tried to focus on her current chapter.

And then the group collided with her bench, and she very nearly fell off of it. Her book did fall and slid, spinning, across the slick mall floor.

"Good book." It was a group of teenagers - and all were in gang paraphernalia. An insanely tall boy had spoken while he retrieved the book and handed it back to Alice. The others moved on while he did so, clearly assuming that he'd catch up without difficulty.

"Yep." Alice accepted the book and pointedly returned to reading it. She wasn't planning on getting into a public conversation that would bother - or maybe embarrass - Hermione.

And possibly jeopardize her living situation.

"Hey, you know Jughead."

Alice looked up at him. Joaquin was the only Serpent she knew, so it seemed odd that this stranger knew this about her. "Yeah. Why?"

"No reason. Just recognized you; that's all." The tall boy held eye contact with Alice, and seemed like he really wanted to ask something - but was debating whether to do so. It went past awkward and straight into 'weird' before he finally just asked - and it was not at all what Alice expected: "How's FP?"

It was hard to hold back a snort. "Jughead's _dad_?"

"Yeah."

"Um, fine?" Alice was confused. But she guessed that they likely had one thing in common if this guy had interacted with FP. "As stuck up and standoffish as ever."

The boy did not attempt to hold back his own snort. "Really. You sure we're talking about the same guy?"

"Thinks suburbia is heaven on earth, can't handle anything that disrupts 'polite conversation' on his patio, and owns a midlife crisis motorcycle that he probably doesn't even know how to ride?" Alice was warming to the subject. "Takes his shoes off the moment he steps into the house - and heaven help you if you forget and take a single step in sneakers -, and keeps his kitchen polished like a shrine to the gods of domesticity?"

Now the boy was gaping.

That was when Alice remembered something she'd failed to give a whole lot of thought to since the (wildly distracting) events of the summer: FP Jones used to lead a gang.

It must have been the Serpents.

"Not quite who he used to be, I take it?" Alice suddenly understood the conversation she was having and pressed her advantage. "I guess he grew up, got a life, and left you in the dust. Feels pretty good, doesn't it?"

"There's no dust in the Southside." The boy's expression had closed off. "We're doing just fine. And FP's only doing what he has to do."

"Oh, yeah, I know all about people who do that too." Alice flicked her eyebrows. Wow, she was really getting angry. "That is _just_ the line you want to hear when someone's taking off on you, isn't it?"

"What's your deal?" He sounded amused and a little impressed by Alice's anger.

"My parents are criminally insane." Alice smirked, but she watched him closely. Better to get the big reveal out of the way now, rather than having things fall apart later when he learned more.

"Huh. Does that run in the family, or am I safe standing here?" He was smirking down at her.

"You'd better watch yourself. I've got the insanity almost for sure. At this point I'm just waiting to see if the criminal part materializes." Alice's smirk relaxed into a smile at his unfazed response. Maybe he hadn't taken her words entirely seriously, but she could live with that. He would never be able to say that he had not been warned. "I'm Alice."

"Sweet Pea."

"And that right there explains why you're in a gang." Alice shook her head mournfully.

Sweet Pea grinned. He sat down on the bench. "You like sitting alone in malls?"

"I live with Hermione Lodge." Alice waved toward the store Hermione had disappeared into.

"Whoa. And you feel secure about mocking FP?" Sweet Pea's grin was still in place. "I would not be throwing stones from that household."

"It's not my household. Not my family; not my style; definitely not my problem."

"Ouch. And that right there explains why you're _not_ in a gang," Sweet Pea gave her a smug look as he turned her words around on her. "Biting the hand that feeds you is... frowned upon."

Alice felt like snarling at that characterization of her relationship to the Lodges - and the implication that she should somehow be more grateful than she'd managed to express through all of her exhausting efforts to be upbeat and 'on' at all times with Veronica and Hermione.

She'd already given up too much information about herself to this boy, though, and Alice refused to be baited.

"I'm sorry. That looked like it was more than one nerve that I just hit." Sweet Pea's brow knit. He actually did look sorry.

Alice eyed him curiously.

"I'm gonna go before my sitting here causes a problem too." Sweet Pea stood up. "See you around, Alice."

"See you, Sweet Pea." Alice wasn't sure when. It's not like she'd seen him before. But she'd remember him, and she got the sense that he'd remember her as well.

**00000**

FP sat at the dining room table, paying bills. The muffled pounding of heavy rain on the roof - so much quieter than it had ever been in the trailer - made the process even cozier and more enjoyable when combined with the fact that he could write the checks without calculating each expense to the penny and weighing how long he could afford to delay payment on one or more of the bills.

And washing away the aftertaste of failure with a beer or three.

There had been a lot of lean years (punctuated with disaster years), but Fred was doing right by him as an employer, and FP and Jug had been living modestly. With the head start of the down payment on their home from the generous fund from the anonymous donor, and the surprise of their vacation being paid for by the television network, they were not just getting by. They were getting ahead.

It felt fantastic.

When FP eventually started depositing the checks from the FBI for his second job, things would pick up speed and he might have to start thinking about investments. A portfolio. The FBI work was a short-term job, but the figures they'd batted around for his 'counterintelligence' had been head-turning. Brandon had apparently gone out of his way to make the whole situation a hard sell on his end, which had made the agents come to FP as if he had all kinds of leverage that he honestly did not think existed.

It hadn't hurt that FP would never accept the first offer, even if it did sound outlandishly high for the work involved; that was not his style, and it would not give him the information that a couple of rounds of hardball could. And so that figure had grown larger still.

FP might have to reconsider whether retirement was in his future; he might not have to work until he died. This was a new possibility, and he was cautious about getting too attached to it - but he knew what that could mean to Jughead, and maybe to any grandchildren that had come along by then.

What a thought.

That idea led FP to wonder idly when Jughead would wander back upstairs from his workout, and whether his son had plans for the rest of the day. Sunday afternoons were their time to spend together, just the two of them, and FP had been considering surprising Jughead with a trip to a local indoor climbing gym to try out his new climbing shoes.

Going through the bills had made it clear that they could easily afford an outing, and FP typically planned their Sunday afternoons around physically demanding activities. The combination of exertion, the focused time spent together, and their tradition of coming home to prepare a meal and indulge in a long conversation in the living room or in Jug's room seemed to work like magic on his boy. Just as with training, Jughead could go from any mood or any situation to being relaxed, jocular, and affectionate. It was their weekly reset.

It was probably down to Davies, but even that was something that FP had come to appreciate instead of resent. Brandon had found a recipe that worked for Jughead, and he'd passed it along to FP.

In fact, that might be where Jug was right now, FP realized. He finished writing the last check, sealed the envelope, and then walked over to the door to the basement to listen for a moment.

There it was. Jughead was laughing at something. FP smiled and started down the stairs to join the fun.

"The rest of the wolf pack is here? You didn't tell me the old man was home, Jones. I don't just want to see your sweaty face, you know."

Davies had obviously caught sight of FP coming down the stairs. Jughead had the phone set up by the weight bench, which was a curious choice, but he'd been mastering the art of multitasking as his schedule got busier. FP was glad he'd found time for Brandon that didn't prevent him from working out as he liked. That freed up time for his friends, Betty, photography - and rock climbing.

"How are those plans for world domination going, Brandon?" FP asked in an overly serious tone.

"One of these days I'm going to slip up and answer that question honestly. Then we'll all be sorry." Brandon grinned. "How's the well-adjusted one doing?"

"Jughead's fine," FP shot Brandon a look. He did not approve of that nickname for Archie and its obvious implications for Jughead.

"I'm sorry; I must have misspoken. How's the most obvious beneficiary of nepotism doing now that he's working for a living?"

"Brand," Jughead objected this time. "Don't pick on him. Anyway, I'm in way more trouble for nepotism than Archie is."

"Hang on, what?" Brandon seemed just as surprised as FP was to hear that. "Did someone say something?"

"Are you being hassled?" FP added, frowning. "You said the internship was going fine. That it was just boring so far."

"Okay, you two really didn't see this coming? I mean, I didn't, but I never see these things coming," Jughead gestured dramatically. He was realizing that he had a lot of pent up frustration, and his explanation already felt like a rant before he'd even gotten started. "Apparently there is not a whole lot of FBI work for underage interns, and these internships are, like, the most competitive in the world. The other intern? He's twenty-eight, and he's won awards - plural - for work he's done overseas. So everyone thinks I'm a waste of space, and they're kind of right."

Brand seemed to be speechless, or at least searching for an adequate response.

FP tensed, remembering the time during the early summer when Jughead had suggested that he deserved to be hit for doing something wrong - or failing to do something he should have. Shades of that seemed to be coming through again in his tone. "You are _not_ a waste of space. Who said that?"

"Nobody said that, dad. Calm down. They're trying to work with me. Only they're really frustrated. I'm frustrated too. I can't even make coffee."

"You what?" Brand had found his voice. "You can't make _coffee_? No wonder they're upset. That's half of any internship, right there. But seriously, kid, what exactly is going on? Who are you working with? I'll make a call and straighten this right out."

"Brand, if you do that, I might as well just quit," Jughead gave him a warning look. "Do not make a sneaky call, either. They already think I'm some privileged brat with connections and no skills. And I _did_ get the internship through connections and I _do_ have no skills. So they have good reasons for feeling like they got stuck with a dud. They could have had another Clark instead."

"Another what?" FP asked.

"Clark's the other intern. The grad student who can actually do things. _He_ can make good coffee. Naturally."

"Stop with the coffee. I'll teach you how to make coffee." Brand motioned impatiently. "What do they have you doing? There's a ton of stuff you can do, even if you're underage. You have a clearance. This is ludicrous."

"Well, they finally stopped telling me to get out of everyone's way and sit in the corner watching Clark work. Agent Sarah's there now, and she's teaching me some stuff. She's teaching Clark, too."

"Agent Sarah's there?" FP raised an eyebrow and shot Brand a suspicious glance.

"That wasn't me." Brand caught the look. "The FBI does what they want to do. They probably thought they could use another warm body or two in that office."

FP frowned then. He could imagine why that might be the case.

"Well, things are better now that she's there. Nobody's making me drink coffee grounds anymore, and-,"

"What? Back up, Jones. _What_?"

FP was incredulous as well.

"Um." Jughead hadn't given a whole lot of thought to the incident. It had been fast, and over almost before it had gotten started. "You would not _believe_ how badly I screwed up the coffee yesterday-,"

"No. Not the coffee saga again. Someone made you drink coffee grounds? I want a name, Jones."

Uh-oh.

"I didn't - I mean, 'made me' is an overstatement - she just said that if I tried the coffee I'd see that-,"

"Names, Jones. I'm getting the sense that anything you tell me right now may or may not be accurate. Fact-checking is in order. This is not sounding good."

FP folded his arms. He might need to stop Davies later, since it was important that Jughead learn to navigate this sort of thing on his own - and it actually sounded like he had done so, though they did not yet have the full story thanks to Brandon going off half-cocked before they'd nudged Jughead into fully spilling the beans - but for now FP was enjoying hearing his own protective sentiments voiced for him.

"Okay. I'll tell you what happened. But no names."

"Give me names or I'll show up in person." Brandon crossed his arms, unconsciously mimicking FP's posture.

"Not the twinning again." Jughead sighed, seeing that they were united in more ways than one on this. "Fine. It was Agent Williams-,"

"Chloe Williams?" Brandon blinked. "Okay. Not who I would have guessed. What happened?"

"I made coffee. It was bad. I had to make a run for supplies, and apparently imitation artificial sweetener should not exist-," Jughead ignored the skeptical looks coming from his dad and Brand at that. Lesson already learned, thank you. "-and flavored creamer isn't 'FBI' enough or something. And then the filter slipped and it was nasty."

"Oh, kid." Brandon was shaking his head.

"So Agent Williams said I should drink some of it. As an 'object lesson.' I had, like, two sips and then dumped it." Jughead shrugged. "No big deal. And as I was _saying,_ it won't even happen again, because now-,"

"Because now you know that there's a zero-tolerance policy for hazing?" Brandon interrupted. "That's where you're going with this, right? That you're reporting this and that's going to be the end of it."

"Yeah, sure, Brand. They'll all be wondering who in the world reported it, and someone will have to explain 'oh, yeah, that's _the intern_.' That'll go over real well." Jughead's tone was sarcastic and he was gesturing in frustration again.

"Do they treat the other intern like this?" FP asked, trying to piece the details together and be sure he was getting an accurate picture. Jughead could be dramatic (and he was clearly in that mode right now), and FP had likewise proven himself capable of letting his imagination run wild.

"They call _him_ by his actual name," Jughead said. "But I already told you; he's experienced and useful-,"

"That's not actually why we call people by their names, kid," Brandon frowned. "I think I missed something in there. What are they calling you?"

"Intern." Jughead frowned. Maybe that wasn't good. "Clark says it more like it's a nickname."

"Creative." Brandon's tone was cold.

"Brandon," FP's voice held a warning now. "It sounds like he's got it handled."

"Yes. Exactly." Jughead looked from his dad to Brandon and back again. "I've got it handled. It's better now. Don't get involved or they'll never take me seriously. Because _nepotism_."

Brandon rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that, kid. It never occurred to me that you'd become a target because of that. It should have. Those are competitive internships."

"You think?" Jughead widened his eyes. He'd done some Googling after his first shift. "Have you read anything about them? I'm just… not qualified."

"You have other skills and experiences," Brandon disagreed firmly. "How does Agent - is that Quinn? - treat you? Don't call her Agent Sarah at work."

"Already figured that one out." Jughead gave Brandon a look, but he was privately pleased that he'd done that much right. "And I stopped dressing up, too. Apparently that made me look young. Trying too hard or something."

"What were you wear- uh, never mind." Brandon stopped when FP shot him another warning look. "You have it handled. Good work."

"Thank you." Jughead smirked in response to Brandon and FP's exchange of glances. "Agent Quinn says I fit right in; that always sounds like an insult about the office, though, and not so much a compliment about my work. But she makes sure I have stuff to do, and that I'm learning things all the time."

"She calls you by your name?" FP figured they should confirm that too, as long as they were on the subject.

"Oh. Yeah. It's really okay, though - I'm hoping people don't recognize me from the news or whatever-,"

"You're interning with the FBI and you were a famous missing person, Jones. Good luck with that." Brand's tone was dry.

"It's working, Brand," Jughead insisted. "Only a few people seem to recognize me, and they're not, like, talking about it. So I want to keep being 'the intern' because at least that means I'm not 'the kidnapped kid.' You know?"

"Brandon thinks that's great, and he's going to respect your decision," FP spoke up before Brandon could answer. "Right, Davies?"

"Obviously." Brandon rolled his eyes at the heavy-handed coaching. "But I also want you to let me know if any of this hazing comes back around. If you've got it handled, fine. Life skills are important. If, however, you find that you're getting knocked around by a pack of bullies carrying service weapons, you give me a call. We'll figure it out, and we'll do it in a way that lets you stick it out with the internship. I'll even try to leave my bulldozer in Canada. Deal?"

FP nodded when Jughead sneaked a quick look at him to see his response to Brandon's words. "You can come to me for advice too, Jug. I won't call them up, but you should have told us that all this was going on as soon as it started." FP turned back toward the phone. "Although Brandon, I don't think anyone's _gun_ entered into this."

"Huh. You could be right, FP," Brandon's tone and words were mild, but his expression bespoke disagreement. "But just in case... Jones, how many people carry a service weapon in your office?"

"Yesterday? It was three," Jughead didn't hesitate.

"Shoulder holsters, right? Nothing obvious."

"Yeah. It's not the O.K. Corral, Brand." Jughead shot his godfather a look.

FP looked back and forth between them. "Is this some sort of training thing?"

"No, FP." Brandon had meant to leave it at that, but the man still looked lost. "Jones has been threatened by FBI agents before. He's been held at gunpoint. If hazing is coming from people packing heat, that's an issue."

FP looked back at Jughead, his expression becoming thoughtful.

"It's really not," Jughead said, making a horrified face in response to Brandon's suggestion. "I just notice that sort of thing. And I didn't think any of it was a big deal. Everyone says internships are tough. I'll let you know if anything else happens, okay? But I think it's all set."

"Okay." Brandon seemed satisfied, at least for now.

"Say goodbye to your godfather," FP directed.

"Hey - I thought we'd get to talk some more," Brandon objected. "I haven't heard about the warrior queen's progress on her article yet."

"We're going rock climbing. Indoor wall climbing, anyway." FP was pleased when Jughead lit up and even Brandon shrugged in resignation.

"I can't compete with that, kid. Have fun and call me tomorrow. I want to hear how your Monday shift goes."

"Will do. I'll send you some pictures tonight, too."

"Sounds good." Brand nodded and gave them a wave before he cut off the call.

"Let's get our stuff. I'll pull out some hamburger to defrost." FP nudged Jughead toward the stairs.

"Great." Jughead grinned. "I'll go shower real quick. Give me five minutes. Maybe less."

FP smiled after him when he took the basement steps two at a time.

**00000**

"I should take Joaquin there," Kevin's voice startled Betty where she was sitting in the office of _The_ _Blue and Gold _when he spoke over her shoulder. "That's… wow."

Betty had her phone out and had pulled up one of the photos that Jughead had shared with her on Monday when they'd been discussing their respective weekends. It had been taken by FP when he was presumably taking a break from belaying. Or maybe risking getting into trouble at the climbing gym, since those two tended to live on the edge when it came to that sort of thing.

In the photo, Jughead was about ten feet off the ground. His feet were braced powerfully in what appeared to be nearly invisible clefts in the climbing wall's surface, and he was straining as he lifted himself with his arms to climb out underneath an overhanging portion of the wall that jutted a few feet out from the wall above him. It looked impossibly difficult, and Jughead had confessed that his technique had sucked - he'd just muscled his way along instead of levering himself more elegantly and efficiently past the horizontal section of wall - but everything about the photo was screensaver worthy.

Betty set down her phone but gave him a nod and a shy smile to acknowledge that she agreed. "I'm going to see about going along next time."

"That is _clearly_ not to be missed." Kevin settled into a chair beside her. "How are things going for you two, anyway? It looked like a wild ride through the summer, but now things are... quieter? And you two are definitely the type where I need to worry when you get quiet."

"You don't need to worry," Betty shook her head with a laugh. "We're fine. We're definitely seeing less of each other now that school, work, and the internship are taking up so much time, but we do get together when we can. And we talk all the time."

Kevin made a disapproving sound. "That actually sounds so much worse than I was picturing. Are you at least considering a mid-life crisis in there somewhere, just to shake things up?"

Betty swatted at Kevin. "Oh, thanks, Kev - why don't you tell me how it's done. How are you and Joaquin doing?" Betty waited, assuming she'd be treated to some of Kevin's famous storytelling and a cheerful recounting of their adventures all over the Northside and Southside.

Kevin shrugged.

"Are you okay?" Betty didn't think he looked sad or upset, but it was out of character for Kevin to be anything but ready with a story - or three - when it came to Joaquin. "Is Joaquin doing all right?"

"He's doing well. I think," Kevin spoke slowly. "Look, if I tell you something, can you keep it to yourself?"

"Uh, yes," Betty looked at him like he was crazy. "I _am_ a reporter. And you of all people should know that I can keep a secret."

"And not share any of this with Jughead?"

"Yes. I am actually capable of that as well." Betty's tone was dry.

"Okay, okay - I guess I do know that - this is just…" Kevin fell silent. Betty waited while seconds ticked by before Kevin finally spoke again. "You know what? Never mind. It's Joaquin's thing, and it's his business. Sorry."

"That's fine, Kevin." Betty suddenly felt like she was in the middle of a test of their friendship. "Obviously that's fine. I'm not trying to pry or anything. Are _you_ doing all right, though?"

"I don't know," Kevin sighed. "I think I need to figure that out. Want to do something together next weekend? Spend some time without the boyfriends?"

"Sure, Kev," Betty agreed easily. "That would be fun. Maybe on Sunday afternoon?" That was when Jughead set aside time for 'wolf pack activities,' per Brand's absurdly cute nickname for the three men, which could involve anything from cooking to training - and now rock climbing.

"Sounds good." Kevin looked relieved. "We'll make a plan. Do something awesome to clear our heads."

"Absolutely." Betty smiled. That did sound like fun, and it was long overdue. "Just the two of us."

Her E-mail dinged, and Betty looked up. It looked like a reply from Alice, and when Kevin offered to clear out and let her continue working, she accepted.

Alice was willing to be profiled, but she had conditions - and she wanted Jughead to write the article. No surprise there, Betty reflected. Alice did not want to discuss her parents, opting instead to focus on the upbeat elements of her circumstances such as expressing gratitude to the Lodges, which was nice. It would not please Betty's mother, but it was nice.

Betty decided to take the rest of the day to think it over. She tried to feel positive about the whole thing, but it made her uncomfortable. Maybe jealous, though she did not want that to be the word - or the _reality_, more to the point.

Alice had so little, she reminded herself. And here Betty was, specifically planning time away from her boyfriend. That really said it all, didn't it? Betty had so much that she needed to schedule breaks from her own wonderful life and relationship.

So she'd deal with it. Be a good friend to Alice, share Jughead's attention with a generous spirit, and try to trust that Alice would not take advantage - and try to maneuver Betty to the outskirts of their friendship. Which sounded like an awful lot when she put it that way.

But honestly, Alice needed an awful lot.

**00000**

"How is the internship going, Jughead?" Mr. Johnson, Jughead's AP Government and Politics teacher, stopped him in the hallway. He was almost glowing with delight.

"The, uh... How did you hear about that?" Jughead had not talked about it with anyone at school outside of his close friends. Now that he was in the middle of figuring out if what he'd been experiencing was actual _hazing_ \- if Brand was not being overly dramatic (again) - or if it was no more than what he deserved for having gotten the position while unqualified, through quasi-nepotism... well, he really did not want to talk about it with anyone.

And definitely not in the hallway.

"I was called upon to give an assessment of your character for your security clearance," Mr. Johnson seemed to stand up even straighter, and his voice was booming with pride - and with volume. "You may recall from our class discussions that I myself sat for the Foreign Service Officer Test, years ago. You have a remarkable opportunity, young man, and that clearance may be as good as a job offer in a few short years."

Jughead glanced around the hallway and tried to back away politely. And shut down the conversation. People were starting to look over curiously at Mr. Johnson's enthusiastic declarations.

"Thanks for, uh, assessing my character. I guess you must have said good things. So. Thanks." Jughead tried to keep moving away without it being too rude.

"Maybe you'd like to sit down some time? Discuss your work?" Mr. Johnson was letting Jughead leave - he was not moving to follow him - but that unfortunately meant that he was speaking even more loudly to ensure that he was heard.

Jughead stared at him. "Well, I got the clearance because… you know... stuff is classified."

Mr. Johnson looked disappointed, but even more excited at the same time, which was weird.

"Of course; of course! The FBI wouldn't waste your talent - your experiences - on something you could speak freely about."

Now everyone was staring. Great.

"I make _coffee_, Mr. Johnson. My part there is boring. I don't think anyone wants to hear about that."

"Ahhh, that is precisely what you _should_ say, Jughead." Mr. Johnson winked broadly. "And you and I both know that the higher the classification, the more boring the details. I'm sure you made a lot of 'coffee' during your time in Toronto as well. Carry on; carry on."

Oh man.

Mr. Johnson was walking away now, and shot him a conspiratorial grin as he did so - as if they were both in on a joke, or a secret that was somehow appropriate to flaunt in public.

And a buzz was starting up in the hallway.

Jughead hurried to his next class, hoping that any speculation would die a quick death.

Because otherwise this might turn out to be a problem.

**00000**

Archie felt proud as he walked with his father around Southside High on Monday evening. Everyone was treating his father like the boss he was, and it was nice seeing his dad doing his usual modest routine - but being treated like he was in charge.

And he was.

It turned out that the decision to either fix up Southside High or tear it down and rebuild would be left up to Fred Andrews, and he wanted Archie to be involved in the process every step of the way. Mayor McCoy was walking along with them, a half step behind, as they did a preliminary walk-through to get started.

"It doesn't look too bad," Fred said once they'd thoroughly investigated the basement. "I need more information, and some time to start making lists and figuring out the costs, but this might not be a tear down."

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," Mayor McCoy responded. "This whole situation caught us by surprise; apparently it's been bad for a while now, but the reports only just reached my office. The quicker we can remediate things, the better."

"It won't be quick," Fred was quick to correct the mayor before she went too far with that assumption. "It might be more cost effective to refurbish what we have here, but the timeline could still be significant. Let's hold off on making plans until I take some time to figure this out and make some calculations."

A few other people that Archie did not recognize were following, hanging on his dad's every word. Jonathan was looking around the school and taking photos here and there.

Archie was following a lot of the logic, and his dad explained a few things as they went. Jonathan pointed out details as well. But Archie was a little distracted by the graffiti and the… _vibe_ of the school. It seemed like a difficult place to get by, let alone to get an education.

Riverdale High was looking better all the time.

They wrapped up the lengthy walkthrough around nine-thirty pm. The group was in a good mood, and they walked together through the school's front doors onto its landing above two diverging sets of steps.

Just as the doors closed behind them, a gunshot rang out. There was a small burst of brick shards to their right.

Archie froze - and he was grateful when both his dad and Jonathan grabbed him without hesitation and pulled him back through the school's doors.

"Can we get an escort?" Fred's tone was dry as he addressed Mayor McCoy and Principal Warren. He patted Archie reassuringly on the shoulder while steering him further into the building.

"I'm fine, dad." Archie looked back toward the doors, wondering if there was any possibility that people would come through them to follow up on the single shot.

"Their bark's worse than their bite." Jonathan gave Archie a knowing smile. "You know FP. He's basically a marshmallow who just happens to love his bike and his leather jacket."

"Jonathan." Fred's tone was sharp. "You should know better; you only see what FP wants you to see. Don't say things like that. Not in the Southside, and not to my son."

Archie looked back and forth between his father and Jonathan. Honestly, Jonathan seemed to be more accurate on this subject, and it suddenly occurred to Archie that his dad might be having trouble adjusting to all of the changes FP had made to his life - and to himself. That would explain a lot of their dynamics at work.

Principal Warren got on the phone with Sheriff Keller while Fred led Archie and Jonathan into a classroom so that they could wait in an area that had seating.

And where there were not metal detectors looming over them.

"This place is depressing." Fred frowned around him at the classroom, which was honestly not a great improvement over the security checkpoint in the hall. "Clearly we'll need to figure out if we just need a police presence here while we work, or if there's any chance that we'll need more than that. We might conceivably be targeted for disrupting any _activities_ that were run through the school."

"Yikes." Archie thought that through and frowned. "You can fix it up though, right? We're still going to take the job?"

"Absolutely." Jonathan held up the camera. "I'll show you some of what I was looking at. We've got at least a few minutes while we wait for the sheriff."

Archie slid into the desk next to Jonathan, running his eyes over the dramatic words carved into the desktop as he did so. "Hey, the Serpents carved this one." A familiar symbol was gouged into the wood.

"They've got their mark all over this place." Fred nodded. "I'll have to think long and hard about whether to have FP work this job. I've got plenty of jobs in other locations, so keeping him off site might be best."

"Wouldn't him working here help? If the Serpents are the ones firing shots?" Jonathan asked without looking up from the photos he was going through on his camera. "They wouldn't risk hurting one of their own."

"It's complicated, Jonathan." Fred left it at that.

Archie gave him a thoughtful look. He wondered if it was complicated because of Jughead, or whether there was a chance that FP might be a target - or if his dad thought that being in the Southside might tempt FP to go back to the gang. Or to drink, for that matter, since he'd be back in his old territory. It was even possible that his father was weighing all of that at once.

"Sheriff Keller is coming over personally, and he's bringing another officer with him so we'll have two vehicle escorts." Mayor McCoy leaned into the classroom to deliver this news. "He won't be long."

"Good. My son has school in the morning." Fred spoke firmly, making it clear that he was displeased by what had happened, but as soon as the mayor returned to the people waiting in the entry area of the school he relaxed and smiled over at his son. "Thanks for coming along, Archie. It means a lot to me that you're getting this experience with the business. Not the shooting, obviously, but the rest of it."

"I know. It means a lot to me, too, dad." Archie returned the smile. Then he focused carefully as Jonathan began showing him photos and explaining what he thought specific repair jobs might involve, cost, and how long each might take.

It was interesting. Surprisingly interesting. And exciting, particularly now that shots had been fired. It was kind of scary, sure, but Archie was feeling energized as well.

It was an adventure.

**00000**

**I had fun with this one. Alice and Sweet Pea being buds was NEVER the plan, but as usual... I am in love. :-D And Archie is finding out what jinxes can earn him, huh? I'll love hearing your thoughts in any and all reviews. :-D**

**Aaand I hope you have a great start to the week!**

**-Button**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six! And it's November!**

**Thanks for the lovely review, Guest - I'm also really interested in seeing how Alice and Jughead's friendship plays out as things shift. Sweet Pea and Jughead as friends would be nice to see too. And yeah, Alice is awfully hard on FP for just trying to do his best, I agree. It is a relief that the internship drama is a little more out in the open, and now Archie's getting some excitement. As FP interacts more with the Serpents, it should be interesting to see everyone's responses... I hope you like this chapter as well! :)**

**Thank you for the great review, Skyrider45! I think Alice and Sweet Pea make some sense, and I think you're right - it could well be that she'll fall in with the Serpents as she looks for a new circle to run with. Oh, Brand. :) He's getting the double whammy of being far away and it being something more or less in his purview (he set it up, etc.), so he's going to have to work through that I think. FP believes Brand can do better too. :-D And yay for Archie getting to do some (less shortchanging?) things! I kept gravitating back toward that line about FP too, and I think you're right about why: that's him in a nutshell in this story. He's also figuring himself out, now that he's not being forced onto a script. Thanks so much for the good wishes! Sleep is helpful for... pretty much everything. Solidarity to you as you work through long weeks - and are halfway through the stretch! I'll be looking forward to reading more whenever you do post (no rush, of course - it's always worth the wait!). :)**

**Thank you also Living Lucid Dream! I _love_ how firmly Williams is in your sights. :-D She's running a little(?) roughshod, and I think that might continue to be a thing for a bit. I'm with you that Jug can buy my coffee fixings anytime. :) Clark is fun to write - I'm glad you think his crush is cute, too. :) And yeah, Alice Cooper is less than classy, agreed... And awww, I've loved having Jug and FP warming up to each other; they don't get to just have fun very much, and I always feel a lot of relief when those scenes fit in. Good analysis of Joaquin, too. I think you've definitely thought that whole scenario through a step or two further than he has! Hopefully he will get a chance to work things out with FP. Yay for Sweet Pea showing up! I'm glad you like his dynamic with Alice, and I'm looking forward to seeing their arc play out. And yeah, Jug is figuring out how to navigate things without a buffer, even though it would be deeply satisfying to have Brand and FP 'cracking some skulls.' :-D My love for Kevin continues to shine through... :-D And yeah, he's getting to be more central for all of the wrong reasons relating to Joaquin. Your analysis of the various pressures on those two is spot on. Fred is having to make guesses about some stuff also, and he's got the dubious benefit of having lived through a lot of the bad with FP - so where others can overlook things, Fred is probably having troubling flashbacks and serious worries. I'll be interested in seeing how that plays out for those two, as well as everyone they're interacting with along the way... :) **

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

'Jughead's in for the article. He'll text you details about meeting up, but prob this afternoon.'

Betty's text was a welcome sight; apparently she'd been able to arrange a sit-down between Jughead and Alice for after school on Tuesday.

It was not welcome news because Alice wanted an article digging into the most painful parts of her existence - which at this point might be pretty much the whole thing - but because she was so incredibly _lonely_.

Sweet Pea had been the first potential new friend Alice had met in months, and even their brief interaction had renewed all of the dormant feelings of social isolation that Alice had been surprisingly able to ignore in favor of her shock, grief, and horror at finding herself more or less a homeless orphan.

It had turned out to be easy to feel resigned about eating lunch on the edge of someone else's social circle - instead of having one of her own - when there were far more massive problems taking up the majority of her brain space.

But apparently, when she wasn't looking, some of that brain space had freed up.

All that pain over being a 'tag along' with Veronica, second fiddle with Jughead, a charity case with Betty, and feeling pressure to avoid making friends with someone like Sweet Pea? It had returned. With a vengeance.

But this would be good: she'd get to sit down with Jughead for an hour or two of actual hanging out. They texted frequently and talked on the phone regularly, but Alice had worried that their hangouts might become a thing of the past now that he'd begun the internship - except for the group hangouts, which brought the ire of Jughead's friends down on her whenever they started to actually have some fun - and this reprieve was welcome.

'Thanks, Betty. Appreciate it!' Alice texted back.

She really needed to invite Betty to do something. Whenever she finally found something to do. Alice renewed her mental commitment to finding a venue for social dancing; it was going on the calendar.

Alice found herself hoping that the article would help Betty's mother, too, since _The Register_ was now down a full-time employee. Alice tried not to feel guilty about that, but the whole situation was so fraught that she felt at the very least tarred by association.

It was kind of nice that Jughead was getting this chance to write for the paper, though. That was a silver lining, and Alice already looked forward to seeing his eager smile. He had mentioned more than once how much he was missing working on the school paper.

Alice found herself smiling at the thought as she headed toward _The Blue and Gold_ to work on her own newspaper commitments. It occurred to her that if Jughead was writing for _The Register_, he might also be willing to try using the same arrangement (whatever it might be) to resume writing for _The Blue and Gold_ as well.

Maybe she could see more of that eager smile.

Alice would have to find out.

**00000**

"I'm running with Trig, Brand. What's up?" Jughead answered his phone without breaking stride. They were just entering Fox Forest, and the run was about to get more challenging. Or, more likely, slower.

"It sounds like I'm getting all of your prime time this week, killer," Brand had a smile in his voice. "You texted me something about your clearance and someone asking questions. What's going on?"

"Oh, uh-," Jughead had found that Trigger did not fully understand that he, the leash, _and_ Jughead all needed to go around obstacles on the same side. They clotheslined a small pine tree when Trig broke left at the last moment. "Sorry; it's a teacher. He's asking about my internship and he's kind of convinced I do a lot more than I do. That 'interning' is a cover story. And he seems to think that I'll tell him stuff."

"Had he been drinking?"

"It was at school, Brand."

"So, what are we talking - two, three drinks? Or is he a musician?"

"No drinks, Brand. School." Jughead shook his head. He was approaching a larger tree now, and watched Trig closely for any tells regarding which side he'd go for. They successfully both went right, and Jughead was relieved. "Nobody's drinking at school."

"Oh, kid." Brand sighed. "If you only knew. So what's your worry?"

"Well, what do I do?" Jughead tried steering Trigger around the next tree. It did not work, and this time he had to stop and disentangle the leash.

"About what?"

"Are you doing something distracting too?" Jughead was confused. He and Trig took up the run again, but at a slower pace. "You aren't making any sense."

"I happen to be giving you my full and undivided attention, kid. Someone thinks you're in MI6, and he spiked his coffee a little too heavily. What's the problem?"

"This… won't affect my clearance?" Jughead decided to ignore Brand's insistence that his teachers were drinking at school. Brand was probably just trying to irritate him.

"You think nobody in the FBI goes to social events?" Brand sounded very confused.

"Brand, someone is trying to get information - and he thinks I'm going to give it to him."

"Sneak preview, Jones: that is going to be every drunk person at every party. Just wait until you meet an angry drunk who thinks you need to be his own personal WikiLeaks in the name of freedom and the American way." Brand was laughing.

Jughead narrowed his eyes. "This is common? It's normal?"

"Have you ever seen internet comments?" Brand sounded apologetic now. "Welcome to 'polite conversation' whenever anyone finds out you do anything classified in any capacity. There is a solution, though. Just don't tell anyone; say that you work for a greeting card company, you don't know anyone who ever canoed to work, _your_ Starbucks cup has your name on it-,"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Brand," Jughead cut him off. "Is that classified humor or something?"

"You'll learn the jokes and the stories soon enough," Brand promised. "Remember this conversation. It will all make sense later."

Jughead doubted that.

"You're fine, kid. Stand down."

"Thanks, Brand," Jughead said. He did feel better. Except… "Um, what are the odds that my classmates need to have a few drinks before they'll act like that?"

"You told your classmates about your internship?" Brand sounded shocked. "You really should have led with that. Why would you do that?"

"I didn't - that teacher did."

"Ah. I see. And you think he wasn't drinking," Brand sounded like he was smirking. "Well, buckle up. They can't teach the kind of experience you're about to get."

Jughead sighed. "Maybe they'll let it go. It was just a few people."

"From your lips to God's ears."

"So, what are you up to?" Jughead had reached the clearing and started throwing the tennis ball for Trigger.

"We-ell, have you heard any scuttlebutt around the office?"

"I don't need to practice right now, Brand. I'm not talking about anything." Jughead threw the tennis ball and watched Trig run energetically. It had been harder to get him out every day with the internship taking up ten hours a week, but Jughead knew that without very careful attention he'd be risking having to put Trigger down.

The dog was filling out and had gotten really strong; he needed good habits, because even one bad incident could screw things up. So they got out here every day, no matter how busy or tired Jughead was.

Brand snorted. "I got a promotion, Jones. Wow, you're suspicious. Must be all that highly classified stuff they have you working on."

"Ha ha." Jughead paused. "What kind of promotion? Do you get to do new stuff?"

"You are talking to the newest dual-citizen, cross-trained paper pusher in the agency," Brand replied. "Ready for action in two nations."

"Seriously?" Jughead's mind raced. "Like… Riverdale?"

"No." Brand's tone was firm. "You have nothing around there for someone at my pay grade. More like New York City. But yeah, I'd be doing international field work... again."

Jughead grinned. They were on an entirely unsecured cellphone connection and Brand had not set up the conversation in the way he'd promised to if they were ever actually going to talk about the reality in Toronto - as opposed to their legend - but with just that brief pause before his final word Brand had reminded Jughead that they were in this together. And invited his godson to share in his excitement over doing international field work for the very first time.

"That's awesome, Brand."

"Don't tell that teacher of yours," Brand warned with a laugh.

"No kidding." Jughead reflected on it more. "I'll come visit you. Maybe a long weekend. New York City?"

"Something like that. Maybe." Brand was suddenly more reticent. "We'll see. We can try to get the wolf pack back together; your dad could use a weekend away too, I'm sure."

"Yeah. We could go climbing together if you can get out of the city. Or maybe there are places in the city, too." Jughead started thinking through the logistics. "Trigger's always been good with Archie and he likes Vegas a lot. It could work."

"Whoa, slow down. Let me get assigned somewhere first, and make reservations for the monster second." Brand paused. "But I like the enthusiasm. It's good to be missed."

"Getting lonely?" Jughead made a face. He worried about Brand.

"I've got a date tomorrow, kid. There's no need to be lonely." Brand's tone was wry.

"And you sound _so _excited about it," Jughead let his confusion come through in his voice. "What, did you lose a bet or something?"

"I'm just having all kinds of bad luck with the dating scene lately." Brand made a displeased sound. "Eh, what are you gonna do? Maybe I need a dog or an adoring godson around to make me look more personable."

"I'm not a miracle worker," Jughead responded teasingly before his tone became more serious. "Trigger is a magnet, though. That might actually work. What's going wrong? I've seen women look like they didn't want to reject you."

"Wow. Doesn't that just bring a tear to my eye, Jones." Brand laughed at his phrasing. When he continued, his tone was breezy. "You're right; it's me. I'm the one breaking up with them. Or, more precisely, I'm not setting up second dates. It hasn't been the right fit. And I've got some baggage."

Jughead felt a reflexive impulse to help - or reassure - Brand, but he thought about that for a few moments and changed his mind. "Well, yeah. You probably do need to square some stuff away before you get serious about anyone. Like what country you're working in, and how much… _danger_ you'll be in."

That was enough of a reference to Rose for a cellphone conversation.

"That's the head of the nail, kid," Brand sounded pleased that Jughead had put it together, but at the same time darkly resigned to the reality. "So here we are. Or here I am, since you have the warrior queen and no such worries."

"I thought my dad might have a girlfriend," Jughead offered. "But it turns out he doesn't. He just hurt his leg somehow."

"Clumsy guy," Brand said neutrally.

"Hey, wait a second - what do _you_ know about this?" Jughead was suspicious when Brand didn't immediately mock his father or ask more questions.

"That he works construction, and that's serious manual labor that can lead to a hurt leg?"

"Ohhhh, so you two already talked to each other," Jughead responded. Trigger approached to nudge his leg and then jumped away from him energetically before bounding back toward his master; he'd clearly tired of chasing the tennis ball and wanted Jughead to run with him again. "All right. Sooner or later I'll figure out what's going on. You can keep your secrets for now, but you both suck at hiding the fact that you _have_ secrets."

Brand did not think that they sucked at it, but unfortunately Jughead was right about FP - and he was also right that they had discussed his suspicions and how best to manage them. Crap.

"I've got to go. Trig wants me to run with him some more, and then I'm meeting Alice."

"Huh. Good luck with that." Brand had not seen Alice since everything had come out so dramatically in the summer, and Jughead had not yet convinced him that he no longer needed to be wary of her.

They said goodbye and Jughead started a game of Trigger Ball. Alice would be showing up in the clearing within the next twenty minutes or so, and he wanted to make the time count.

**00000**

"So then they both went back to reading, and I was trying to figure out how stealthy I'd have to be in order to get to the spare room with my plate - and a glass of wine, of course," Alice smirked.

"You're putting that up against my coffee story?" Jughead raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"You don't have to live with them. One even handed you a mug," Alice shot back.

"Oh, well, in that case," Jughead waved a hand in the air dismissively. "This one time Brand forgot that he had me in a chokehold - he was totally distracted - and I nearly passed out. Then he _lectured_ me because I stressed my vocal cords by trying to tell him he was killing me."

"This game is entirely unfair. I'm going to ban any Brand stories the next time we play." Alice rolled her eyes. "Um, my mother was planning a major crime about two feet from where I was sitting, and I legit feared for my life if she saw that I was there. I had to wait until she left and then escape without being seen. By my own _mother_."

"Do you even remember that attacking me was literally the crime she was planning? You're making this game way too easy." Jughead laughed.

"So… what happened then, anyway?" Alice asked curiously. She'd been wanting to ask this for ages, but it had never seemed like a good time to bring it up. "Did you, like, pass out after I left? Or did you get sick again? I don't have access to those court records and none of that made the news, obviously."

Alice's mother had not wanted to see her since the arrest, and the feeling was more than mutual - at least for the time being -, so Alice did not have a lot of information beyond what Hermione had shared with her. Which had been spare, and definitely not included details about what had happened to Jughead.

They were both lying in the grass in the clearing, Trigger wedged between them where he could happily enjoy having two people giving him attention. Jughead stopped patting him, though, and instead he crossed his arms.

"It was like... being awake in a coma. I don't recommend it."

Alice tried to picture that. "You were catatonic?"

"Not exactly." Jughead decided to just tell the story. It seemed like Alice had more right to know this than almost anyone, since this was the incident that had essentially orphaned her. "At first I thought I was getting sick, and I just barely got outside to Mr. Andrews. Then I was sort of paralyzed. Brand thought I might even lose the ability to breathe - or that my heart would stop. My dad-," Jughead realized that he wasn't sure how to explain that part, "-uh, he sort of had his arms over my chest. Brand had to stop him from holding my chest down, because I couldn't breathe whenever he got too tense."

Alice felt like she couldn't breathe now, either.

"Sorry." Jughead shifted on the grass, trying to see her expression. "Too much?"

"No. I want to know." Alice wasn't sure that she did anymore, but it had seemed important for months that she eventually find all of this out, whenever they had time and Jughead was in a mood to talk about it. This afternoon was the first time it had come up in quite this manner.

"Well, I was stuck that way for a while. It probably seemed longer to me than it actually was, and then it wore off slowly. I was weak for hours, even after I could talk again."

"You couldn't talk?" Alice immediately realized how dumb that sounded. "I mean, obviously you couldn't. You could barely breathe. I just-,"

"We should talk about something else," Jughead spoke up, hearing the tension in Alice's tone. "It wasn't- I mean, Mr. Andrews was there. And then my dad got there, and Brand. I was freaked, but I didn't, like, think I would die alone or anything."

"But…" Alice heard what he hadn't meant to quite say, "you thought you might _die_. Just not alone."

Jughead was silent for a few moments. "I hoped that was the worst case scenario. Not - you know - being stuck like that. Maybe forever. Honestly, I kept wishing I would pass out and just wake up when it was over, one way or another."

Alice closed her eyes against the terrible sympathetic fear she felt on Jughead's behalf. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be." Jughead uncrossed his arms when Trigger nosed up to his shoulder. "Sorry, bud. I'll get back to petting a bald spot into your fur, just the way you like."

Alice turned over onto her stomach. "I _am_ sorry. I left with my mother. I was scared, but you- you thought you were dying. I should have-,"

"Not helpful." Jughead turned over onto his stomach as well, and gave Alice a serious look as he raised himself up onto his elbows. "There were so many times when I couldn't help and I really wished I could. You want to play _that_ game?"

"Sure," Alice cocked her head to one side, curious to hear what stories he had about that. "So you've got my first one: I should have helped you when my mother drugged you. And I kind of knew what she was doing, at least sort of."

"Respectable." Jughead smirked darkly. "I was the only one to make it out alive with Brand from two different houses. I don't even know who was in each of them, but they can't all have been… Jameson."

"Two?" Alice had no idea what the second one could have been.

"Yeah. The trailer was only one of two places to go up in smoke that night. The other one was demoed to the ground. I'm not even sure how it happened, but Brand hauled me out like a _minute_ before it blew."

"Whoa."

"I know. Brand still acts like he's confused by how messed up I was after that. I was standing in the basement of that house for hours, and it was - literally - a ticking time bomb."

"Standing?" There was something very disconcerting about getting those sorts of details. The news stories always said something vague like 'was held in a location.' This was disturbingly real in comparison. Alice felt sickened, but also like she needed - she ought - she _deserved_ to look straight at everything that Jughead had survived. She'd been so callous about all of it before.

"I haven't really thought about this recently." Jughead sighed heavily. "There were some guys. They were watching to make sure I didn't escape, and didn't try anything. So we all sort of stood there, for ages, even though I wasn't going to be able to defend myself well if they did come after me. I'd only had a little training at that point. And my hands were tied together."

"Oh." Alice's voice was small.

"But they were lazy, I guess." Jughead looked away. "Maybe they didn't want to get banged up if I got a good hit in before they took me down, so they waited for me to get tired. Or for them to have a pressing reason to grab me. I don't know."

"They all died?"

"I think so."

Alice took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But it gets better, right? That's the saying?"

"It did for me." Jughead looked back over at Alice. "But I got lucky. I think that… it's going to take longer for you. So I'm sorry about that, I guess."

"Thanks." Alice thought about that. "Can you tell me how awesome it is on the other side of everything? Let me live vicariously? I could use something to look forward to."

"What do you mean? What do you want to hear about?" Jughead rolled onto his back again and nudged closer to Trig, who snuffled into the hand he offered.

"Your dad. What's he like when he's not telling me to stop calling you Jonas? Is he great?" Alice had thought about Sweet Pea more than once since meeting him in the mall. This was almost an avenue for getting to know him better, in a roundabout way.

"He needs to stop telling you that. It's really fine," Jughead said. "But, um, let me see. How to explain my dad. It was complicated - bad - before Brand came, so let's just skip that. Nobody wants to live vicariously through that."

"Yeah, skip that part," Alice agreed. "I want to hear the good stuff."

Jughead was silent for a few moments and then he spoke. "He's really warm. Like, literally warm. And he likes to be close when we talk. A hand on my shoulder, arm around me, or whatever. I think he likes to make sure I'm still here, after everything - although sometimes it's almost as if he does that so he doesn't have to look me in the eye." Jughead had given that some thought when he'd noticed a pattern of his dad getting upset in conversations and then moving to be right next to him instead of face to face.

"But that's also just how the Serpents - his old gang - are." Jughead tried to conjure a mental picture of what he knew of the Serpents. "They're aggressive with each other, so they're constantly in physical contact. They spar and stuff. It's sort of a... shoulder-slapping, rough hugging sort of thing. I think my dad basically does a version of that with me."

Alice tried to picture the gang - and failed. She tried to picture FP hugging Jughead, and had a little more success. She'd seen him drape an arm over Jughead's shoulders, and act like it was the most casual thing in the world when Jug lit up and wrapped an arm around him in return - instead of protesting and fighting to get free like a more typical teenage guy might.

"So what about Brand, now that he's in Canada? Do you still hear from him?" Alice could recall his typical habit of roughly pulling Jughead into a half hug, instigating playful altercations with him, or messing up his hair. Again, Jughead had seemed to welcome it and lean in more than she imagined most guys would.

"We were on the phone just before you got here; we don't talk every day, but if you count Emails we're in daily contact." Jughead nodded. "He's doing well at work; he gave me some advice about the internship. We're going to cook together on Thursday, and it's his turn to pick a recipe. Which reminds me - I'll have to bug him to get it to me tomorrow, in case I need to get groceries." Jughead smiled ruefully. "He forgets about that part sometimes, and then we have a mess."

"Wow. I picked the right person to live vicariously through." Alice was smiling, even though her stomach hurt with longing. "You think I'll get there? All grown up and happy, with people who want to hug me all the time just because I'm there? People making time to cook with me and tell me all about their life, even though they're insanely busy - and live in another country?"

"Definitely." Jughead nodded firmly. "No question. I'm going to have to remember this conversation, too, so I can call in favors later and live vicariously through you when your life is even more amazing."

Alice was still on her stomach, resting on her elbows. Jughead was lying back in the grass, and Trigger suddenly scrambled up and began sniffing along in the clearing where an animal must have passed by earlier in the day.

Jughead looked over at Alice, eyebrows raised, with a tentative smile on his face as he watched her with more concern for her wellbeing than she could remember anyone else expressing for her in months.

It felt warm. It felt normal. Alice could almost pretend that they were hanging out in Toronto, and she was about to go home to her father's unfunny jokes and middle-aged-divorced-parent gripes about her free-spirited ways, and maybe then Alice would text her mother to let her know how she was doing during her holiday in Canada.

And then Jughead spoke again: "Alice, um, I've been thinking… Maybe we should hang out a little less. I think that I might be taking up too much of your time, and, uh, keeping you from really getting to know other people. Making other close friends."

Jughead didn't make eye contact as he spoke, but then he seemed to realize that he was avoiding eye contact - and when he pinned her down with a deeply sincere stare, it was somehow so much worse.

Alice probably should not have been surprised by how much it hurt to hear. She was, however, surprised when she started to cry.

Alice felt herself turning red. "Oh my god, I'm sorry."

"Me too." Jughead was turning red as well. Trigger exhaled hard at Alice, as if he was in a huff, before going to his master's side to sit next to him, whining anxiously. Jughead seemed relieved to have the dog to focus on.

"Do you just say that you're sorry _whenever_ something happens?" Alice heard how angry she sounded and wanted to kick herself.

"Yes," Jughead said meekly, looking up from where he'd begun scratching Trigger behind his ears to calm him down. "Brand hates it too. Sorry."

"Wow. You just did it again."

"Well. Did it help?" Jughead was looking at her almost fearfully, like she might run away.

And maybe she should. Alice was not at all sure what to do now. "I don't know. Did I somehow... screw up our friendship?"

"No. Of course not," Jughead said firmly. Then he hesitated. "Are you in counseling?"

"Sort of. Why?" Alice went when she felt like she couldn't make it another week without talking about things with someone. Hermione only took her - only made an appointment - when Alice specifically asked, so that had made it infrequent.

"I go every week. My dad does, too. We even have family sessions together with dad's counselor every other week, even though I'm pretty sure that guy doesn't like dad. I keep telling him to just get a new counselor; it's all sort of weirdly combative and sets him on edge. But we've gotten used to it, and I think dad's turned the whole thing into a game, so now-," Jughead stopped, clearly realizing that he was rambling nervously.

It should not have made sense. But it did.

"I need to talk to someone else about things."

"You need to talk to someone else _too_," Jughead corrected gently. "I'm here. We're friends. I just-,"

"You can't do all of it. I get it." Alice looked away. And then she looked back at him curiously. Jughead was staring intently at his shoes and looked like he was agonizing over the conversation.

Maybe it was complicated for him too.

"Do you still want to work on the article?" Jughead finally asked. "We don't have to."

"We should." Alice drew her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I want to. What do you want to know?"

"Well, what's actually going well? Is there good stuff you want to talk about?"

Alice's mind went to Sweet Pea. "Yeah. There's good stuff. It isn't all bad."

"Okay." Jughead seemed relieved. "Good."

And suddenly, as if a cloudburst had washed away a heavy blanket of humidity, Alice felt her breath come more easily. Instead of feeling like she might walk home to her parents and her old life, Alice suddenly felt a million miles removed from that - and like there were new possibilities.

Maybe even a whole world full of them.

**00000**

"Do you have the study questions, Veronica?" Alice asked from where she was relaxing with her Political Science textbook. It looked as though the book was getting less than half of her attention as she watched videos on her laptop and typed on and off - chatting with Jughead, no doubt.

Veronica frowned at her cellphone before answering.

It wasn't like hurrying would give Alice any great advantage; they were getting ready for school on Wednesday morning, and the study questions were for a test that very morning. Alice couldn't possibly cram if she did not already know the material.

In comparison, Veronica's cellphone held much more pressing news: Archie wanted to spend time together on Sunday afternoon, and she had already made plans to do all of her weekend homework then.

Veronica thought through her schedule briefly. She had an SAT prep class, two meetings that she had not yet prepared for, and an outing scheduled with her mother for Saturday. With Vixens practice running particularly long on Friday afternoon, almost every minute was spoken for at this point.

Archie was going to be upset; this was the third weekend in a row that Veronica had needed to buckle down and 'just get through this crunch.' The words were sounding hollow even to her at this point, but she did not have Archie's insane athletic talent to fall back on. She did not have Betty's grades and writing ability with which to sell herself to a good college. She certainly did not have Jughead's eye-catching story, power-paired with basically the most prestigious internship that existed.

Veronica hated that her mind went immediately to the internship applications that she'd begun working on. Adding one of those to her schedule would push Archie even further down her list of commitments, and that was the last thing she wanted.

But she wanted a good college so badly.

It was difficult to explain to Archie, who was more competitive than he was ambitious - or to Betty, who was something of a perfectionist but inexplicably paired that tendency with a contentment that made her perfectly happy in Riverdale and willing to work hard just to prove to herself that she could achieve.

Betty never seemed to focus that perfectionism on recognition or awards, or working toward a particular college and lifestyle. She rarely talked about competitive colleges unless she was discussing Jughead's options with a supportive attitude that Veronica would have found very difficult to manage if it were Archie being prepared to conquer the campus of his choice while she looked on without any hope of having doors of that nature opened to her.

In fact, it could even be a little galling when it came to Jughead.

So maybe Veronica _would_ complete an application or two for internships. It seemed like Jughead was getting everything done and still finding time to spend with Betty.

"Um, Veronica?" Alice repeated her question. She barely looked up, though, and then she was smirking and typing again. Which meant it was definitely Jughead.

Which was not Veronica's problem, she reminded herself. And she had enough of her own to worry about.

It looked like Archie was composing a follow-up text, too, no doubt to sweeten the deal and make his pitch for Sunday even more compelling. He'd been taking that tack since the summer, and it would have been sweet and endearing... if it did not make Veronica feel even guiltier.

Veronica just needed to work harder, and find ways to schedule more quality time with Archie. There had to be a way to get it all to fit; otherwise, colleges would not expect it of her.

Other people were obviously managing, and her mother was incredibly supportive of her drive and schedule. That had to count for something. Veronica wanted to live up to her mother's accomplishments - and to the sacrifices that she had made for her.

And Veronica had finally admitted to herself that she felt even a little more push to succeed whenever she watched Alice falter. She really hoped it was not a mean impulse - a competitive one - that made her work harder every time she saw Alice blow something off. She liked to think of it as 'setting a good example.'

Veronica smiled a little more brightly whenever Alice was chilly with Hermione, scheduled a few more meetings when Alice cloistered herself in her room, and did her homework a little more conspicuously when Alice missed a few too many assignments. It seemed like it should encourage Alice gently, and remind her that this was what junior year was supposed to look like: this was a workhorse year for college applications.

And so Veronica should probably dig up those study questions for Alice. She set her phone down and began digging through her bag.

Helpfully, she and Alice looked like night and day next to each other, so Veronica did not actually believe that she would get lost in the shuffle now that there were three women in the Lodge household.

Alice was taller, blonde, and very much a sportier, edgier version of Betty - who was achieving far less in school than either Betty or Veronica. But it still seemed important for Veronica that she always be her strong, capable self in every way whenever Alice showed herself - once again - to be distracted, moody, and flaky.

"Oh, come on…" Alice was muttering to herself as she clicked through several websites in quick succession. "Did he give me the British spelling _again_?"

Veronica found the study questions and held them out to Alice. Her eyes lit up and she began skimming them hungrily. Veronica could almost see her checking each one off mentally, and when Alice handed the sheet back without further comment, it was more irritating than it should have been.

Because, to be perfectly honest, things did come easily to Alice. And there was a tiny sliver of fear in the back of Veronica's mind as she worked so hard and Alice seemed willing to let everything slide: if it had all worked out for Jughead after his disaster of a sophomore year, it was entirely possible that someone would step in for Alice and hand _her_ everything that Veronica wanted as well.

Colleges had caps on how many people they accepted from particular schools. This might actually turn out to be a zero sum game.

If Jughead turned out not to be the only ringer in their graduating class, the admissions odds were going to get very long very quickly for everyone else.

Even the thought felt profoundly unfair, but Veronica could tell that any reality that played out along those lines would ignite a searing jealousy that she never wished to experience. Sharing her mother and her home was enough generosity; ceding her dream of a fantastic college to a novelty applicant who had real, legitimate reasons to need a break - perhaps even to slack at times -, but who was _also_ given every opportunity to do her work in the comfort of an open, welcoming home and _still_ did not put in anywhere near the hours that Veronica did… it would be a bridge too far.

Achieving as much as possible would hopefully at least keep Veronica from being left too far behind if anything like that did happen.

"Go to school, Jughead." Alice was shaking her head with a small smile as she shut down her laptop. "Ready to go, Veronica?"

Veronica forced a smile.

She did need to spend time with Archie, though. Veronica decided to find out at school what he had in mind; maybe he had a practice, and she could work on her homework while she sat in the bleachers and make them both happy.

That might just work.

**00000**

Jughead tried to recall Brand's assurances that it was normal to have people pester him about having classified work (classified coffee-making and tutorials on procedure, but whatever), and yet he was having a hard time picturing this scenario playing out at a polite party. Even after more than a few drinks.

The car that Jughead and FP had picked out had been nicer than Jughead had hoped for. Brand had been as good as his word and written Jughead a check in the amount of his earnings for holding his godson hostage - and the amount had been enough to get a decent used car, and not just a beater like he'd suggested.

Jughead's dad had offered to contribute a specific amount toward the car, and that had more than allowed him to get a respectable vehicle. Jughead was proud of his car, and of the good care he took of it.

And he really, _really_ didn't appreciate people writing him messages in shaving cream on the paint job. That would do lasting damage if he didn't clean it immediately - and he had to go pretty much directly to the internship, so that meant a car wash.

There was definitely a conspiracy nut contingent at Riverdale High, too, based on the nature of the messages scrawled on his vehicle. Jughead wiped some of it away, trying not to smear it onto any more of the paint, and then headed straight to clean it off.

He was sitting in the car as it went through the automated washing process when Archie texted.

'I got your locker cleaned up.'

Jughead read the text a few times before he decided that, no, he had no idea what his best friend was talking about.

'What did you clean up? Locker was fine. I thought.'

Archie sent a shocked emoji and then a photo.

It was either very bad - or highly entertaining. Maybe both, but Jughead would reserve judgment until he'd had time to fully process the visual: it looked like a collage of tabloid headlines about "Jonas Davies," and crazy stories about his time in Toronto. Jughead had been avoiding the media when most of those had been published, and he was tempted to enlarge the photo and try to read more of the headlines.

'Whoa. Thanks. Know who did it?'

'Dilton? No idea. Maybe someone who hates the govt.'

That was not a bad first guess, actually. Jughead waved his thanks at the guy hosing off his car at the end of the car wash and then thought it over as he headed to the resident agency. If it had been Dilton, this might be something he could address with a conversation.

He'd ask Brand first, though. Jughead didn't want to throw fuel on the fire if the better strategy was ignoring these gestures - and assuming that they were likely to be the extent of the problem.

**00000**

"Brandon, something's very wrong in the Southside." FP was speaking quickly, as though he was in a hurry, and his tone was low. He must be at work, or so Brand assumed. "I can't fill you in right now, but can you find out what Jughead's up to this weekend and make sure he's booked for all of Sunday? I can get you some cash if you want to set something up for him, but I don't want any of this coming from me."

"FP, you don't have to pay me. I'm fully able to treat my godson once in a while, and he'd probably benefit from a trip to the shooting range." Brand hesitated. "But why Sunday? You can't just leave Jones alone. Sundays are your day."

So far FP had provided intelligence, done a little counterintelligence work as the faction made moves to anticipate the FBI and law enforcement's responses to them, and he'd basically stayed on the outskirts of everything.

This vague conversation sounded suspiciously like FP might be making a bid for doing more robust undercover work, and Brand really did not want to have that conversation on a cell phone, let alone without a whole lot more information about what was 'wrong in the Southside' that had not been just as wrong a day prior - and at least a few hours to discuss logistics, an actual plan, and contingencies in case things went badly.

"Jug is doing well; the Southside is not."

That conversation would probably need to include a discussion of priorities as well.

"So, what... you want to see that reversed?" Brand's tone was dry. "Have you met the kid? The first you'll hear of things not going well will be when his room is empty and that dog is saddled down with all his worldly possessions." Brandon paused and then snorted. "Well, actually, it's more likely to be not nearly enough of his worldly possessions. But he'll be just as gone."

"He promised not to run away again." FP sounded impatient. "I think he's learned his lesson. In triplicate. And I shouldn't be gone all that long."

"I don't pretend to understand the logic. I only know what I've observed, and somehow Jones finds a way to justify doing the worst possible thing the moment you break the pattern on him."

Brand's tone became more concerned as he continued. "Look, I can book him up on Sunday for you. But we need to talk this through. I don't like the idea of you trying anything without backup, and I don't like the idea of you two missing a weekend. You've been like clockwork for months, and that's what works for Jones. You know that he treats that dog of his like it's a mini-Jones, and you've seen how carefully he schedules their time together. So. What's going on? I assume you're not doing this lightly."

"I'll fill you in later, Brandon. Just get him booked and make sure it has nothing to do with me."

"Hey. Talk to me, FP. Otherwise we'll have to discuss-," Brand realized that the phone had gone dead.

This was new and troubling; FP's change in demeanor now that he was interacting more with the Southside was not a good sign.

'Saintly FP' was often judgy and irritable, but reassuringly Jones-centric. Brand could predict him; he'd come to like and respect him. He was an unusual guy, but once you learned the patterns he wasn't too tough to figure.

'Serpent FP' was another story.

Brand really wished he knew more about FP's former role with the Serpents. That would not only help him out in guessing what was going on that had caused this abrupt change in attitude, but more importantly he'd be in a better position to anticipate FP's actions and any potential fallout.

It would also be helpful to know at least some of what had gone on between Jones and FP before Brand had shown up in Riverdale. Then he'd be better able to predict what the kid might do if FP started changing up routines on him. After all, per the nature of this line of work, FP was quite likely to start acting a whole lot like he had in his pre-Brand days.

Unhelpfully, the only thing Brand knew for sure about that time was that the kid had preferred homelessness to sharing a trailer with his father.

Jones was tight-lipped about all of that; it was a useful sort of loyalty, since it extended to Brand and a lot of what had gone south between him and the kid as well, but it did mean that Brand was having to figure this part out as he went along.

And so help him, if any of this blew back on his godson, FP was going to be answering to Brand.

It might be time to give Rose a call and see about greasing some wheels and speeding up his timeline. There might be a few strings attached to that little favor, but at this point it was probably worth it.

Brand would feel better once he was on the ground in Riverdale and had eyes on the situation.

**00000**

**And we're off! I hope you all had a lovely Halloween, and are enjoying the new month already. I'll look forward to hearing any and all of your thoughts about this chapter as everything starts to crank up in the story for lucky chapter seven... :-D**

**-Button**


	7. Chapter 7

**Lucky Chapter Seven! November is really chugging along, too. :)**

**Thanks so much for the great review, Living Lucid Dream! I do think that Brand needs more in his life, and something about him trying to date just cracks me up. We shall see how it goes! He has been isolated, and you were quite generous to euphemize "his former lifestyle." :) I loved your analysis of Jug/Alice talking, too. The physical touch thing is strong for Jug, yes, and I think you've hit the nail(s) on the head for why that's likely to be the case. It was also SO much pressure for Jug to handle the difficult conversation, so timing aside I was impressed by how smoothly he got through it. Sweet Pea is definitely going to be around, and I love your hope for him and Alice! Veronica's been flirting with burnout for a while now... I'll be interested in seeing what comes of it for her. Brand figuring out what to do as FP explores new roles miiiight be a moving target. I'm not sure Brand has control over FP's work as an asset (which I'm sure Brand would hate to admit), and I'm also not sure what FP is likely to do as things unfold. He's bright, he can get bored (unpredictable), and at the same time he's motivated and excited about the good things that are happening. It's so complicated, and FP is in uncharted territory in some ways, with all-too-charted territories mixed in. It should be a wild ride, whatever comes!**

**Skyrider45, you made me laugh - Brand would be an excellent internet troll. He'd get in, get out, and leave nothing but scorched earth. :-D Also, Jughead-as-FBI-intern might want to keep those stories in mind, but readers do not need to; that was (in order!): NSA nudge/wink joke, CIA ancient history (traffic = bad, but canoes = security risk as it [shockingly] turned out), and CIA current state of affairs (I think; it's not like I dropped by to confirm it was still the case - but that's okay because neither did Brand! :-D) at their on-site Starbucks. (if Big Brother wasn't into this fanfic before, well... Welcome to the saga! Reviews are always welcomed! :-D) I'm so glad you liked Jug/Alice's conversation. The counseling has been so important (even when FP's gaming his counselor, he's clearly getting good stuff out of the process), but also not a silver bullet, and I was glad you liked how that played out in Jughead's advice. :) Brand needs to keep track of those strings, yep! And thanks so much; I've actually thought about your good wishes for sleep quite a bit this week as I did, indeed, get some VERY nice nights of sleep here and there. I hope you are managing good sleep as well! And hopefully a rested writer means this will be a good chapter for you. :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Archie felt his knee bouncing under the dining room table; it was a satisfying motion. Quite a number of things were going well, and it was kind of a rush as they picked up steam.

He'd already heard from Veronica that she was interested in coming to practice and then dinner on Sunday, which was a relief - she'd seemed very much like she'd gone right back to her overworked habits when the school year had begun, and Archie had been getting worried all over again. Hopefully this was a good sign that things were not about to get crazy once more.

Archie had also gotten the strange messages removed from Jughead's locker and helped him begin a list of suspects for his 'investigation.'

And Archie was particularly excited about hearing the update on Southside High over dinner on Wednesday evening.

It had been a banner week so far, and he felt ready for more action - and more adventure.

Thankfully, his father did not disappoint.

"We're going to have to make it a tear-down after all. The Southside students will begin attending Riverdale High on Monday of next week, and we'll be demolishing the structure right around that time - just a few days later. Then the real work begins."

"Wait, when you say demolish, do you mean… you're blowing up the school?" Archie's eyes went wide.

"Well, yes," Fred couldn't help but smile in response to Archie's enthusiasm. "That's specialized work, though; I'll bring in my usual demo guys for that."

"_Cool_." Archie could not think of much that would be more exciting than blowing up a high school. He hoped he'd get a chance to work with the demolition crew. "When does that part happen?"

"That's a decision we'll be making this week. It will be sometime after Mayor McCoy gives her speech, and if everything goes smoothly we'll have the structure down before Friday. Construction will take almost a year; we're hoping to have everything completed in time for next fall, and the start of the new school year."

"Wow." Archie nodded, impressed. "This is a _job_."

"And then some," Fred agreed. "You can start telling people about it on Friday. That's when it officially becomes public knowledge."

"Okay. I'll let Veronica know then; we'll plan to come to the speech and everything. Have you decided if FP will be working on Southside High?" Archie asked.

His father gave him an odd look. Maybe it was a weird question, come to think of it.

"I just want to know what's likely to come up with Jug. He's working through some stuff at school, and I don't want to stress him out." Archie grimaced sympathetically.

"I haven't decided, Archie." Fred eyed him thoughtfully. If circumstances were newly complicated for Jughead at school, that was not likely to be simplified by Archie being privy to his decision-making regarding FP's role at Andrews Construction.

"I'll probably talk to FP about it," Fred finally said. He was still unsettled by the odd conversation with FP about making some of his hours 'flexible.' Fred was trying to wrap his head around the implications of the request, and he wasn't sure if it changed his calculation of what would be the best approach to Southside High's rebuilding - or if it further confirmed his inclination to keep FP away from the project.

"Okay. Well, keep me posted. This is great, dad." Archie's mind was back on the demolition scheduled for the following week.

"I think it could be," Fred smiled again. It was gratifying to see Archie showing more interest in the business all the time.

And, regardless of what happened in the future, this would always be time that Fred treasured having spent with his son.

**00000**

"Did you have a good day at the office?" Brand asked a little too casually on Thursday afternoon as he and Jughead began assembling the goat cheese lasagna that they were attempting together on a video call.

"I only make coffee on Saturdays, so yeah," Jughead gave him a teasing look. "Today was great, actually. I got to run the mouse for a while, and I was way better at it than Clark."

"Hmmm, that sounds like _highly_ classified technology and technique. Be sure that you keep a lid on it," Brand teased back before he responded more seriously. "Nice job showing up the other intern; never pull your punches at work, kid. How are things at school?"

"Conspiracy nuts attacked my locker and wrote stuff on my car with shaving cream." Jughead shrugged, but he watched carefully for Brand's reaction. "But that's not too bad, all things considered... Right?"

Brand winced. "I hope you washed that car immediately."

"Oh yeah," Jughead nodded. "It's not exactly our rental car from Michigan, but it's mine. I'm taking care of it."

"Good." Brand looked pleased. "What are you doing on Saturday?"

"I have my shift, and then I'm spending the afternoon with Betty," Jughead said. "We're going to cook together. It's still a little weird inviting people over, but Betty likes getting out of her house and my dad likes to break out his 'my son's on a playdate' smile. You can even tell him I said that; it's hilarious." Jughead shifted some of the noodles so that they rested more evenly in the pan. "It's also kind of... nice."

"Oh, man. That actually sounds terrifying. Are you going to try out this new lasagna recipe with Betty?" Brand asked. He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to fish for a little more information about FP, but this was a wider opening than he'd had in a while. It might be worthwhile to see what he could learn.

"Nope; we're going to make macaroni and cheese."

"Ohhh, that was a great recipe. Nice choice," Brand said approvingly. He decided to go for it. "Playdate smile, huh?"

Jughead cocked his head curiously at Brand, clearly surprised that he was asking more about his dad. "Yeah. He did it sometimes when you were here, too, but I didn't have a name for it back then. It was mostly when you and I were goofing off and he wasn't mad at you for something."

"So, what, twice?"

Jughead laughed. "Something like that. He puts himself under a lot of pressure, you know."

Brand shrugged. He wasn't sure he did know, but he had gathered that a lack of 'pressure' or motivation of any kind had characterized FP in the not too distant past. So, sure, maybe that's what it looked like to the kid now that FP was being (a lot) more responsible.

And Brand was fully aware that many people saw his own habits as being extreme in the opposite direction, and his definition of 'pressure' as somewhat skewed. So there was that.

"Dad only smiles like that when he feels like he can relax. When things are handled and under control, at least for a few minutes. So yeah... maybe just twice when you were here." Jughead smirked.

Huh. Brand suddenly wasn't sure how he felt about this becoming a more common phenomenon in the household. FP feeling like he could relax and take a load off might be exactly what Brand was worried about.

"He spending more time out of the house? Getting busier with stuff now that you've got more 'play dates,' kid?"

"You thinking about contesting custody?" The question was posed so innocently that it reeked of danger.

Crap. The kid was quick on the uptake. It was a little too easy to forget that now that their conversations took place solely over the phone and Email.

Jones was also reacting defensively, which was a dead giveaway that Brand was not the only person in this conversation who was worried about FP.

"You wish. But your dad isn't getting off the hook that easily; I'm just making sure everything's still good. No starvation tactics to keep you in line. No excessively long time-outs, tempting as those can be."

Brand figured that phrasing should be over the top enough to nudge the kid back from whatever DEFCON level he'd managed to leap to in a matter of seconds.

"Everything's _fine_. And you know that I do the cooking, Brand." Jughead's voice was mild and he appeared to be focused on assembling the lasagna, but he was definitely agitated - and his tone became lethally sharp when he spoke again: "Don't pick on him. You're the one who isn't here."

"Ouch. Message received, kid." Brand was suddenly even more concerned; the instinct to protect his father was pure Jones, but the kid knew that particular blow was solidly below the belt. Brand must have hit a nerve. That was probably enough information-gathering for one night.

Brand changed the subject. "So, in other news... do you have Sunday plans?"

"Dad's got stuff he needs to do - and before you go off, this is literally the first Sunday he's missed since we got home from Michigan." Jones was almost surly.

Brand smoothed his facial expression into absolute neutrality to keep from setting him off even more. The kid seemed to notice Brand doing that, and his own expression softened in response.

"So I could probably devote Sunday to calling you... and getting the third degree again." He shot his godfather a teasing look and, just like that, the kid seemed to shake off whatever had cast a shadow over the conversation.

It was another classic Jones move: he had an incredible capacity for grabbing and enjoying what pleasures he could, and Brand had watched him intentionally cultivate an ability to turn that mode on like a light switch during their months together in Toronto. The kid's motivation seemed primarily to be a deep-seated fear that anything good might not last - so he had to hurry up and enjoy it - but in Brand's opinion that made it an even more impressive skill.

"Because _that's _always so much fun," Jones continued. "What is your deal today, anyway?"

"Just taking an interest in my godson." Brand gave him a mock offended look. "Is that not allowed?"

"You and dad both." Jughead's eyes narrowed. His dad had been inquiring about his plans for Sunday as well. "What's going on this weekend?"

"I literally just asked you that."

"Uh-huh."

They eyed each other.

And then they both burst into laughter.

"All right, no more of this ridiculous standoff. Do you want to go to the shooting range on Sunday? I thought it might be good for you to get some more target practice, so I talked to your dad about setting it up." Brand quirked his eyebrows. "We're falling down on the planning-surprises thing, huh?"

"Hey, there's no falling down on this one - that would be great," Jughead enthused as he recalled how much he'd enjoyed improving his aim when they'd gone shooting together in Toronto. "Thanks, Brand. Just wait; I'll be _amazing_ when you and I go shooting again."

"I'm counting on it." Brand smiled, pleased by the kid's obvious delight. He and FP needed to get it together, though. Jones wasn't going to buy that this was all innocent for much longer. Especially now that everything was about to change.

**00000**

"Did you get everything set up with Jug?" FP asked when he called Brand late on Thursday night. He sounded worried.

He also sounded a whole lot more like the FP that Brand knew, which was heartening. Maybe he'd just had a brief panic over whatever had come up and things were now back to an even keel.

Brand hoped so.

"Yeah; that was no problem. I know my business, FP. We need to talk about not being in such obvious lock-step, though, because Jones knows that's not normal. He's asking more questions. But first: what's this all about?" Brand was still irritated over FP giving him marching orders.

"DeSantos is missing. The Serpents I talked to are remarkably unconcerned, but it is _not _like him to disappear." FP's tone was dark. "I'm just finding this out, but nobody has seen him for days."

"Gang member off the grid for a few days? Huh. I wonder why nobody hit the panic button." Brand's tone was wry. "If you weren't vouching for this being a problem, I'd be with them on this one."

"The ground is like quicksand in the Southside these days." FP shook his head in frustration. "He shouldn't be missing. Not now, and not like this. Not for days."

"You don't have to convince me, FP. Part of our arrangement is my taking your word for it when you tell me things like this," Brand assured him. "We'll bundle it with the Serpents investigation and give it the attention we'd give to any missing person. I finally got traction on my assignment, too. I'll be in Riverdale tomorrow morning, if you can believe that - I'm packing as we speak."

Brand grinned. He was eager to begin his new assignment, and Rose had made things happen even faster than he could have hoped.

His plane ticket had been accompanied by some useful information, too. Apparently SSA - supervisory special agent - Phillips had been the primary holdup on the resident agency's end. That did not bode well for their working relationship, but at least Brand knew about the issue ahead of time.

"And I'll officially be outside of the chain of command at the RA. Which is just another way of saying the buck stops with someone else, and that I won't answer directly to anyone." Brand's grin widened. "My kind of setup. We can do whatever we need to."

"That's... one way of looking at it." FP rolled his eyes at Brand's interpretation of his role at the agency. "You do know that the SAC still calls the shots when it comes to you. He may not be on site, but he's not blind and he will step in if you try to get away with too much. And the field office is a lot closer to your resident agency than any of the others."

FP apparently paid more attention to the chain of command - and local geography - than Brand. But he still didn't know everything about everyone.

"You mean Banner? He and I have an arrangement," Brand scoffed.

"Ah. Of course you do." FP didn't roll his eyes again, but it was tempting. "The spare bedroom's ready for you, but you are on your own clearing that with Jug if you surprise him at work. I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole."

"FP. He'll be glad to see me. We'll take the dog out together and then make you a nice dinner; you're going to love having me around." Brand smiled at the thought of - finally - catching up with Jones in person.

"We'll see. Jughead doesn't like surprises. Not on this scale, anyway. And that's probably down to you."

"Nah; he was born that way. I've been teaching him to embrace the unexpected. He's just _slightly_ resistant to learning that lesson." FP snorted and Brand had to laugh as well. "This is a good surprise, though. I'll just need to point that out, and then it will be smooth sailing."

"Uh-huh." FP's tone was skeptical. "Like I said. We'll see."

"You bet." Brand sounded entirely confident.

**00000**

"I can't believe I was worried that this year would be boring." Archie was shaking his head as he regarded his lunch on Friday. "Boring is looking pretty good right about now. And that's not even all of the news."

Betty had been concerned when Kevin did not come to school, but when she heard why, she was overwhelmed by a dread that seemed to verge on the panic attacks that Jughead had described to her.

When she'd gotten to lunch and seen that Jughead was fine - shaken up as well, but alive, healthy, and right there with her and everyone else at school - some of the panicky feeling calmed down. But it was still an intense feeling of déjà vu.

Veronica looked like she felt exactly the same way. Alice looked concerned and sympathetic, but also a little removed from everything. Betty figured she was probably giving them space out of respect for the situation - and also due to the fact that she was not particularly close with Kevin or Joaquin, even though she had gotten to know them a bit in the spring, as well as in Michigan over the summer.

Also, Alice had not been there when they lost Jughead. There was no déjà vu for her.

Betty wondered why that sounded a little bit off, even just in her head. It was true.

"There's other news that's as big as Joaquin being _missing_?" Jughead looked like he was afraid to ask.

"No, nothing like that," Archie waved his hands. "This is not that crazy. But it is big. Southside High is closing and all of those students are coming here. As of Monday. Joaquin being missing is definitely bigger news."

"Okay, yeah," Betty agreed, "but that is still major. What happened? How do you know about this?"

"It's only public now - as of today - but my dad got the bid to tear down Southside High. There's some sort of health issue with mold and code and stuff, so he's going to rebuild it in time for the next school year." Archie filled them in.

"Does my dad know?" Jughead suddenly wondered if that was what his father and Brand had been keeping from him.

"I don't think so?" Archie shrugged. "But maybe. My dad had to keep it really quiet, but he's making plans with the crews today. Some of them are already working on it so that the tear-down can start next week."

"Wow." Veronica tried to absorb that. "We're getting even more students? It's pretty full here already. Do you know what Riverdale High is going to do just to… fit everyone?"

"Trailers for more classroom space?" Betty offered. "We are pretty much at capacity here."

"Oh, also-," Archie gestured to Veronica, "at some point Mayor McCoy is giving a speech at Southside High. Once things are scheduled, I guess. Want to come with me for that?"

Veronica wasn't sure that she'd be able to get all her work done, but she was determined to be optimistic. "Sure. Yeah. I'll have to see how things go, but - tentatively - let's plan on my being there. Do you want to go too, Alice?"

Alice shrugged. "Maybe. It's a speech about tearing down a highschool?"

"Southside High getting rebuilt is a really big deal," Veronica wasn't sure she had much more explanation than that. "Once you see it, you'll understand."

"I can try to go too," Jughead offered. "Let me know when everything's scheduled. Want to come as my date, Betty?"

Betty returned Jughead's teasing smile.

"I'd be honored, Jughead Jones."

"A date to say goodbye to Southside High," Veronica intoned. "How romantic."

"They're going to blow it up next week, too. I really want to go, but I'm not sure when they're going to do it," Archie said. "That would be a way better date, though. I'll let you know once I find out more about it."

"Definitely," Jughead said. "I'll bring my camera."

"I'd be up for that, too." Alice agreed.

"It would be cool to see." Betty nodded gamely. "So… do any of you want to come with me to visit Kevin after school today?"

Archie and Veronica immediately volunteered. Alice nodded as well, but quickly looked down to focus on her lunch when Betty gave her a surprised smile.

"I'd have to call out from my internship, but I can go too," Jughead offered.

Betty pulled out her phone and texted Kevin. His reply came swiftly. "Oh. Um. Kevin says he only wants me to come over."

"That actually makes a lot of sense, B. As long as you're up for it." Veronica made a sympathetic face. "You understand better than anyone."

Jughead bit his lip. This was the part of everything that he'd missed last time: the experience of being left behind.

"Yeah. I guess that's true." Betty nodded in response to Veronica. She leaned toward Jughead, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Alice watched them. She hoped that whatever had led to Joaquin's disappearance was not affecting all of the Serpents. Maybe it was innocuous and he'd turn up soon, embarrassed to learn about the fuss he'd caused.

She was learning more about the Southside very quickly, and Alice wondered if Sweet Pea would be at the speech. Maybe he would attend Riverdale High starting on Monday. It was even possible that she'd understand more about him when she saw Southside High.

When Jughead pressed a kiss to Betty's temple and his expression radiated both a protective impulse and a bone-deep contentment, Alice found herself hoping even more fervently that Sweet Pea would be around.

**00000**

"So my friend Kevin's really worried, and I know that I can't say anything specific, but it's so much worse than having Dilton - or whoever - messing with my car. I'm not sure what to do, or what I'm allowed to say."

"That sucks, kid," Clark said. He looked really sympathetic. "I've never known anyone who had a friend or family member disappear, though; I'm probably the least helpful person you could ask at the agency for advice on how to cope. Doesn't Agent Quinn work with a lot of kidnapping survivors? She'd be the one to ask."

Jughead was startled. He'd been asking for advice about handling the classified side of their work, not the 'coping' part of the situation.

And... that _was _weird, come to think of it.

A normal intern would not have a robust support network in place that included multiple counselors with training specifically related to abductions and missing persons. The classified nature of their work probably wouldn't even _occur _to another intern as a site for friction, even as Kevin became more and more frantic and texted him for details about whether the resident agency was planning to investigate Joaquin's disappearance.

Which everyone had apparently only just noticed. And it had already been days since Joaquin had last been seen or heard from. Those two facts had law enforcement doing a lot less 'scrambling to locate' than 'constructing a timeline of what happened.' The police were investigating, and Sheriff Keller would do what he could, but Jughead already knew that this was not a best-case scenario.

Jughead had also overheard enough gossip at the agency to know that most people were assuming that Joaquin was either dead or hiding out for a specific purpose.

And they might not be wrong; Jughead hated to even think it, particularly since he had forged a better relationship with Joaquin over the summer and really wanted to make sure that he was not in danger - but there _were _shady things going on with the Serpents. And Joaquin had never attempted to distance himself from all of that the way that Jughead's dad had.

"Sorry. I wish I had more to offer." Clark was eyeing Jughead nervously now.

"Oh! No; I was just... thinking." Jughead realized that his silence had probably seemed to be more distraught than pensive.

"Intern." Agent Williams approached them both where they were working independently for the afternoon. Agent Sarah suddenly had a lot more work to do on a case that Jughead and Clark had not been read into, though she had promised to find time for them the following week. "I hear you may know something about DeSantos. Let's go."

Jughead looked over at Clark. Clark motioned for him to go, looking at him like he was crazy for hesitating.

"Uh, maybe. I know a little bit," Jughead confirmed. He stood and followed Agent Williams down a hallway toward a small room that was tucked out of the way. Agent Sarah was already sitting there, at a table. "Not a lot, though. Is the FBI planning to investigate? I thought the case needed to be more… federal."

"Jughead, you know DeSantos?" Agent Sarah smiled when he pulled a chair up to the conversation, but it was a worried smile. "Are you sure you're okay helping us out with this? You and I can discuss this somewhere else. Privately."

Jughead widened his eyes and shook his head quickly, hoping that she'd get the hint: he was trying to keep quiet about his own experiences. "I'm fine, Agent Quinn. I want to help in any way that I can."

"Please don't give him an out from the first useful thing he's been able to do around here." Williams shot Agent Quinn a look. Sarah gave her a measured look in return that suggested that she was not impressed by her words, but would not interfere further.

Williams continued more aggressively; apparently she did not like Agent Quinn's response. "So, intern, how do _you _know a gang member? Do you know of any girlfriends or family members he might have connected with if he did just decide to take a vacation without telling anybody?"

"Boyfriend," Jughead corrected quietly. He ducked his head in response to the angry questions and answered the ones that sounded the most salient. Jughead wasn't sure how much information they could actually have at this point if they didn't already know about Kevin. "I met him through a friend at school."

"Oh. My. God." Williams looked horrified, but also slightly - perhaps cruelly - amused. "How did you ever get a clearance?"

"What?" Jughead stared at her in shock. He'd apparently done something very wrong - yet again - but he had no idea what it could have been. "I didn't do anything - I'm just-,"

"_Who_ is DeSantos' boyfriend?" Agent Sarah cut in, and this time the look she gave Agent Williams was less measured and more annoyed.

"Kevin Keller." Jughead spread his hands as if to show his innocence, and he could feel his pulse start to race. Maybe he was about to lose his clearance and get kicked out of the agency, and he had no clue why. "He's the one who introduced me to Joaquin. His father is Sheriff Keller."

Jughead looked back and forth between Agent Sarah and Agent Williams, both of whom looked upset, and he was suddenly even more worried. "Wait. Did something _else _happen?"

Agent Williams looked from Jughead to Agent Sarah. She still looked irritated, but no longer as though she was calculating how quickly she could have Jughead's clearance revoked. "Then you're not sleeping with a gang member? Just, you know, to confirm."

Jughead's jaw dropped.

So did Agent Sarah's.

"_What_?" A very familiar voice boomed as someone entered the room behind Jughead. "I'm sure the warrior queen would look good in leathers, but that would be absolute murder on the security clearance."

Jughead nearly fell out of his chair.

"Special Agent Davies." Williams was standing - almost at attention - in a moment. "This is the intern. We're just having a chat. There was some confusion about how exactly he's familiar with-,"

"Thanks." Brand's voice was cold and his expression made it clear that he'd heard at least a little of what had been going on before he'd decided to enter the conversation. "Agent Quinn can take it from here. _The intern_ doesn't need to go home with tales of sexual harassment."

Jughead paled.

So did Agent Williams.

Agent Sarah simply watched this play out and folded her arms.

"You've got other things to do?" Brand prompted.

"Yes." Agent Williams skirted around him nervously and left the room.

"Sexual harassment?" Agent Quinn waited for Williams to be out of earshot, but her tone was studiously neutral.

Brand's eyebrows lowered once again as he turned to her. "Why in the _world _do you have Jones anywhere near a missing person case?"

"Uh-," Agent Sarah suddenly seemed to realize that she might be in some trouble as well.

"Brand. I'm just trying to help." Jughead put a hand over his eyes, but then he looked up curiously - and was suddenly processing the fact that Brand was actually standing there, right in front of him, after the long months apart. He stood up and took a tentative step toward his godfather.

"Hey, kid." Brand opened his arms with a smile, and Jughead grinned and launched into him.

"You're here!" Jughead threw his arms around his godfather's familiar frame and savored the feeling of security that Brand always seemed to bring with him.

"This is highly unprofessional, so don't do this with any other colleagues." Brand laughed as he lifted Jughead up off of his feet. He set him back down and ruffled his hair. "You really do weigh less; I'm not liking that. Good muscle tone, though. Keeping up with that reading list?"

"Yeah. I just finished _The Nibelungenlied_, Brand. You would like it." Jughead was a little breathless as he fought tears of relief. It was abruptly clear to him that, somewhere along the way, he'd become half convinced that Brand was never coming back.

"That sounds terrible. I might just have you tell me about it instead." Brand looked down at Jughead and was surprised to realize how emotional his godson was. "Are you okay, kid? Your dad told me not to surprise you at work. Don't tell me he's going to win that argument."

"It's a good surprise." Jughead sniffled.

"That's exactly what I said." Brand slid a hand across Jughead's back and tucked him closer against his shoulder, angling them away from Agent Sarah for a modicum of privacy in the small room.

Brand lowered his voice so that it was just above a whisper. "Hey. You knew I was coming back. I promised I'd be back. I made sure you were okay; I called and wrote."

"Yeah." Jughead matched Brand's low tone.

"So don't cry."

"I know." Jughead sniffled a second time.

"Because you'll make me cry."

That made Jughead laugh, and the tears receded. When he spoke again, it was at a normal volume. "Yeah, right. Why are you here? Did my dad call you to help find Joaquin?"

"Wow, Jones. Abandonment issues much? Can't a godfather visit just because?" Brand dropped a hand on the back of Jughead's neck and gently tweaked his spine. "Look, why don't you go help Clark with the job I gave him, and stay away from Williams for the rest of the day. I'll be riding home with you at six and we can talk more then."

Jughead perked up even further at that. "Wait, you're here for work? How long are you staying?"

"We'll talk when we're not on company time." Brand looked amused by his own turn of phrase. He pushed Jughead back from his hug and held him at arm's length so that he could look him over. His amused expression turned into an affectionate smile. "You look good. I like the suspenders. Go get something to eat before you help Clark, though; the camera really does add ten pounds, huh?"

Jughead gave him a look. Brand tousled his hair again.

"There's a box of those protein bars you like in the kitchen with your name on it. Literally. Take three or four. But don't even _think_ about touching the coffee."

Jughead moved to obey, but as he did so he reached a hand to where Brand still gripped his shoulders, as if to confirm one last time that his godfather was really standing there.

Jughead was surprised when he was pulled into another warm hug.

"Oh, what the hell. I'm here now, kid. Finally. I missed you." Brand patted his back twice and tweaked his neck again before releasing Jughead.

"I have your sunglasses at home."

Brand smirked. "Good. I'll need 'em to shield my eyes from the rank incompetence at this resident agency."

"And to shield your eyes from the glare off your trophy when you win Mr. Congeniality," Jughead retorted, smirking in return.

Agent Sarah looked from Brand to Jughead and back again. She definitely knew the official backstory on their relationship, but Jughead realized that she'd never seen them together.

"Oh, uh, Agent Sarah - I mean, Agent _Quinn _\- have you met my godfather?" Jughead awkwardly introduced them. "Brand, this is Agent Quinn."

"I'm Special Agent Davies at work, killer," Brand corrected. "You're the croissant one, right?"

Agent Sarah nodded, and her expression was unreadable. "It's nice to meet you, Special Agent Davies. Jughead speaks very highly of you."

"See, Bran- Special Agent Davies? I'm going to be giving you serious competition for that Mr. Congeniali-,"

"Go help Clark, kid." Brand nudged Jughead's shoulder with a smirk. "Don't forget the protein bars; I'll check on you in a little bit. Gotta get to know my new colleagues." Brand shot a smile at Agent Sarah, who looked intrigued and mildly entertained.

"No. You really don't." Agent Sarah got up and left the room first. She shot Brand a challenging look as she did so, but hesitated in the doorway to size him up one more time.

Brand rocked back onto his heels and then forward onto the balls of his feet as if he was stretching his legs. He was still smiling at Agent Quinn, and now he looked pleased with himself for some reason.

Huh. Jughead looked back and forth between them. Clark would not be pleased if this was what it looked like.

In fact, Jughead wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it either.

**00000**

"I think you should just be there. Maybe not try to say anything, but ask what your friend needs. Kevin, right? That's his name?"

Jughead looked up from the laptop he was working on. "What, Clark?"

"You know, what to do to help your friend while the FBI is looking for his boyfriend." Clark eyed Jughead worriedly. "You seem really distracted. Do you need to leave early? That's allowed. Especially under the circumstances. I can finish up here for Special Agent Davies."

They were back on the tedious job of verifying information for an active case. One that had nothing to do with Joaquin.

Jughead did not think that was an accident.

"I have to stay until six." Jughead knew that explaining that he was giving Brand a ride would raise all of the questions that he did not want asked, so he left it at that.

"To repay your debt to society?" Clark teased cautiously, motioning to the empty protein bar wrappers on the tiny table they were currently sharing.

"They had my name on them." Jughead smirked.

"Note to self: keep Jones away from the Sharpies," Clark returned the smirk. He was clearly relieved that Jughead was joking with him.

"How's this coming?" Brand leaned into their space without warning.

"We were just strategizing on the most efficient way to complete the job, sir," Clark responded smartly.

Jughead looked up in surprise at Clark's sudden change to an almost military tone and inflection. He chimed in as well: "We're getting there. We'll be done before six. Sir."

Brand narrowed his eyes at him, but Jughead was not trying to be sarcastic. He was trying to blend in.

Clark elbowed him subtly when he saw Brand react to Jughead, and Jughead kicked him in return - Brand wasn't going to miss something like that. And if he accused anyone else of sexual harassment, Jughead was going to die of embarrassment.

"Sounds good. Carry on, you two." Brand gave them a sharp nod, but Jughead saw a flash of amusement in his expression as he turned away.

"Special Agent Davies is here. This is so crazy. And he just checked in on _us_." Clark shook his head, awed. "The man is a legend. Almost no history exists on him, and then he just exploded onto the scene with this massive bust in Toronto. It was years in the making, and he's been doing this crazy effective work ever since. Everyone stays out of his way - or tries to draft off of him, because everything he touches turns to gold. You know what this means, right? There's got to be something international going on in this region; most likely something big. He's Canadian, you know."

Jughead did not look up from his laptop, too afraid that anything he did or said might give him away. And seriously, how did Clark know all of that about Brand and not recognize Jughead?

"Don't worry about it, kid." Clark had read into his silence. "You'll start learning who the major players are. Just spend some time on Google tonight. And I'll make the coffee tomorrow; this is the big leagues."

"You should still show me how," Jughead suggested. "Want me to come in early?"

"An hour early?" Clark looked interested in that idea. "We _really _want to impress Special Agent Davies. He can open doors. You and me, Jones. We'll impress him, and then we'll be set for life."

Jughead focused even more intently on his laptop.

"Come on. You're my wingman." Clark was almost pleading when he did not get the reaction that he'd hoped for. "I know we can pull this off, but it will take both of us to do it really well."

"Fine. Okay." Jughead figured that was the only possible response, really. And he _was_ trying to do his best at the internship. This pact could only work in his favor. Hopefully Clark wouldn't get caught in a whirlpool of busywork that sucked them both in because Brand didn't want Jughead anywhere near Joaquin's case.

"Aw, you're the _best_," Clark mimicked Jughead's words from the previous week with a teasing grin.

Jughead smirked again, and then focused on his computer once more.

"Good thinking; we need to focus. Let's knock this out by five and then ask him personally for another job."

"Sure thing, Clark." Jughead nodded. "He probably loves brown-nosers."

"You have no idea how this works, Jones," Clark was dead serious. "This is how you get ahead. You do anything and everything to make the boss man's life easier."

"No, no; you're right." Jughead figured he probably was, actually. "He'll love having us work our tails off to anticipate his every whim."

"Get him coffee when we report in." Clark nodded thoughtfully. "That will be good. We'll find out how he takes it, but for now stick with black."

Jughead sighed, but then plastered an agreeable smile on his face. "Sure. Good plan."

**00000**

**So many things! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope you're looking forward to a lovely and restful weekend! I'll (very much) enjoy any and all reviews you have time to leave; thanks in advance! I'm looking forward to more being stirred up as we get further into the plot. :)**

**Take care!**

**-Button**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ooooh, chapter eight. :)**

**Skyrider45, thank you for the lovely review! Your reaction to Archie's pyromania (is that the word? Google led me to "intermittent explosive disorder," which is _definitely_ not the right term...) was great! Watching videos for research purposes has also been fun. :-D That is a great teaser for your next chapter, by the way. I'm looking forward to it! Happy accidental scenes are the best, I totally agree. :) And yeah, poor Kevin (and Joaquin, whatever he's up to - he's got to be missing Kevin, wherever he is!). I am really glad you're enjoying the internship plot - Brand, Clark, wingman dynamics, and all. You are more than welcome, by the way; thank you for faithfully reading and reviewing!**

**Living Lucid Dream, that skill of Jug's is maybe the one I'm most envious of - well, that or his fighting skills. ;) I think that is indeed the rule of thumb regarding Joaquin being missing, and I'm also hoping for good things for him. The RA situation is definitely heating up - Agent Williams is a pill, yeah - but Brand might be able to help. Settling interpersonal disputes is what he's known for, right? ;) And I'm curious to see how things go with Agent Sarah (Quinn) too. :) Oh man, Clark is unique. :-D I'm not sure if Jug's name change did him in or what (we'll probably find out as Jughead gets to know him better), but I agree with you that that situation's likely to bite someone in the rear at some point. :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"He said that?" FP was clearly surprised - and Kevin gave a frustrated motion with his hands as if to say 'see?'

Sheriff Keller glowered from across the room.

Because apparently Mr. Jones sucked at this.

Betty decided to try and help. "Um, yes, Mr. Jones. Jughead does seem to, uh, downplay how much danger you were in when you searched for him," she prompted. "I think it might be, you know, his way of dealing with how incredibly _risky _it was for you to chase down all of those leads on your own."

Betty had arrived at the Kellers' house after school, and had spent most of the afternoon sitting with Kevin in his bedroom, with his phone at the ready in case there were any updates. It was buzzing almost constantly with concerned messages from friends, and Kevin kept startling and grabbing it to see what news might come.

Because he and Joaquin had last communicated via text. And that might have been the last communication that _anyone _had with Joaquin before he'd disappeared.

Kevin was blaming himself, at least in part. Joaquin had told him that he'd gotten into a precarious position involving multiple people paying him for the same work - something that had made Sheriff Keller very upset when Kevin explained all of the details he knew, since he'd given his son very clear marching orders to report anything along those lines that he learned from Joaquin.

And now the worst might have happened.

Kevin was terrified that Joaquin was going to be found dead. He was horrified that anything that followed might only have occurred because Kevin had turned a blind eye to his boyfriend's vague boasts and not intervened when he'd first been told about the shady arrangement.

The final text Kevin had received from Joaquin simply said 'Hope you're sound asleep! Just wanted to let you know that I'm getting closer to that trailer.'

At first Kevin's father had been very interested in which trailer Joaquin had been referring to. He shared one with several people, but this sounded like a different location - and one that Joaquin obviously thought that Kevin would be able to identify, even based on his cryptic text.

When Kevin explained that Joaquin was probably talking about a future, hypothetical trailer - and suggesting that he was getting closer in his efforts to save up to buy one - the whole story had come tumbling out.

That had been on Thursday evening, which was when Joaquin DeSantos was (finally) officially reported missing.

All of that was worlds away from what Betty had experienced when Jughead had disappeared.

And somehow it was exactly the same.

But Betty had quickly realized that she did not know what to tell Kevin or how to be helpful. After Jughead had vanished, everyone had thought he was dead. Archie had basically witnessed his death. Later, even when they'd had reason to suspect that Jughead might be alive, that hope had been short-lived for everyone other than Mr. Jones.

So it made some sense that, when FP himself had come by the Kellers' home and taken a couple of hours away from work to meet with Sheriff Keller and discuss what he knew about Joaquin's disappearance - which was apparently very little -, Sheriff Keller had asked Mr. Jones to talk to Kevin.

Keller was now sitting in on the conversation as FP gently explained that he could not condone, advocate, or approve Kevin undertaking anything like what he himself had done after Jughead had gone missing.

The only problem? It was incredibly obvious that Mr. Jones would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

"That's not how Jughead tells it." Kevin sounded combative.

"How does he tell it?" FP asked. He was definitely curious - and this was a line of inquiry that was unlikely to be helpful in deterring Kevin from following his example.

"Kevin, that's about all we have time for. Mr. Jones needs to get back to work." Sheriff Keller had probably noticed what Betty was seeing in FP's expression. And in Kevin's.

"He tells it like you went full-on Liam Neeson," Kevin said seriously, ignoring his father. "For a while I thought you were literally involved in the Toronto gunfight or whatever. And the Baltimore stuff sounds like it was ripped off from _The Wire_."

Betty thought that was a slight exaggeration... but only slight.

"Really?" FP leaned forward before he caught himself. "Uh, but that's exactly what I'm telling you, Kevin. It was a mistake for me to look for him on my own." FP made a face when it was obvious that there was no way he was going to be able to sell that line believably. Sheriff Keller looked annoyed, but seemed to be holding off for the moment - no doubt hoping that FP could still pull it out. "And parts of Baltimore can be very dangerous. I only told Jughead that story because-,"

"Because he intentionally deprived you of sleep and then pulled every trick he knows to get you talking." Kevin shrugged; it sounded like he might be quoting Jughead.

FP grunted, clearly less than pleased with that characterization of what had played out, but then he nodded. "Basically."

"So, then, what's Joaquin going to think if he is alive and I didn't do everything I could?" Kevin's expression crumpled. "Jughead said those stories - the fact that you were in Toronto before anything hit the news - that _everything _you did helped. After he was back, I mean; I know that the FBI found him before you did."

FP looked surprised and pleased.

Sheriff Keller did not.

"Joaquin will think that you _not being in danger_ helped," Tom Keller snapped before Mr. Jones could say anything else that might be problematic. "You staying out of trouble and not diverting resources away from the search will help. Being smart, sharing everything you know and everything you can think of that might aid the investigation - all of that will help. You need to be patient, and prepared to support Joaquin when we do find him."

Kevin gave his father a stubborn look - as if they'd had this conversation more than once already -, and suddenly it was a little clearer why Sheriff Keller had asked FP to help with this conversation.

Which was maybe backfiring.

Betty decided to try jumping in again. "They're right, Kev. I mean, can you imagine if things had gone differently in Baltimore? Jughead would have had no family left in Riverdale. He might not have come back here at all after the FBI found him."

FP looked over at Betty, and she met his gaze sympathetically but firmly. She didn't want to criticize his decision to search for Jug, and a lot of the deeply held anger she'd had over his refusal to hold a funeral for Jughead had turned into guilt - and then gratitude when FP had turned out to be right, and Jughead was alive.

But Sheriff Keller was correct: Kevin was not going to fare well if he started contacting criminals who might have been involved in a kidnapping or murder in the Southside.

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying." FP picked up the thread of conversation. "My situation was totally different. I knew that the search for Jughead was losing steam - which is not your position at all, Kevin -, and I searched in places that were extremely dangerous. I know how to handle myself, and still there were some closer calls than I like to think about."

Sheriff Keller's eyes went wide, and Betty wondered if he was thinking ahead to when Joaquin's search might one day begin 'losing steam.'

Yeah. Mr. Jones definitely sucked at this.

"All of which could have meant that Jughead _never came back here_," Betty repeated, hoping that her contributions would help FP get back on message. "Or maybe he'd have been put in the position of needing to search dangerous places for Mr. Jones. And I know that you don't want Joaquin to have to do that for you, Kevin."

Mr. Jones and Sheriff Keller both looked over at Betty, seeming impressed by that line.

Kevin seemed thoughtful.

Maybe this was finally turning around.

"I, uh, do have to get back to work." Mr. Jones was reading Sheriff Keller's signals, and was apparently willing to quit while he was ahead. Or at least not too far behind. "I think I'll see you tomorrow, Betty. You're making dinner with Jug at our place, right?"

"That's the plan, Mr. Jones," Betty replied. When they all stood up she gave FP a hug. "Say hi to Brand for me."

"I will." Mr. Jones leaned into the hug and spoke softly: "Thanks."

"Of course." Betty gave him a small smile and spoke very quietly to him as well. "We're the worst people for this. It's just… it's too close."

FP paused as if he was considering that idea. "Give us another five years, huh?"

"Pretty much." Betty patted Mr. Jones on the back in agreement as he turned to leave.

Betty turned back to Kevin after his father and Mr. Jones had left the room. She was still not convinced that he would not attempt searching for Joaquin, but hopefully he'd be a lot more cautious if he did attempt investigating on his own.

And at the moment, his father would not let him out of the house. Kevin seemed resigned to that, at least for the time being.

Betty fell silent for a couple of minutes; apparently she was back to being useless.

She did not think she had anything to add to what Mr. Jones had already told Kevin. She had not even kept a journal during the months when Jughead was missing, so while some of the emotions and impressions were seared into her mind forever, a lot of the early weeks ran together in her mind as one blur - the next few weeks as a slightly differently hued blur - and so on. There were specific conversations or events that had taken on a salience for her that was difficult to explain, but those did not seem like they would be interesting or helpful to Kevin.

And, ultimately, the problem was simple: this was not going to be like Jughead and Brand.

Joaquin was not going to suddenly reappear as part of a two-man crime-fighting unit, safe and sound - regardless of how twisted Jughead and Brand's relationship had been at that time -, and pick up where he'd left off in Riverdale.

"Do you think that Jughead can convince the FBI to look into this? My dad says there needs to be more federal stuff, like crossing state lines or whatever, for them to officially come in on the case, but-,"

"I'll ask." That much Betty could do. "Jug doesn't carry his cell at work, but he's got a shift tomorrow. I can ask him tonight. And you heard Mr. Jones - Brand's in town. If anyone can find Joaquin, he's got to be a good bet."

"Okay." Kevin was glad that he could set at least that much in motion. A tear rolled down his cheek. "Tell him it's important."

"Oh, Kev. He knows." Betty hugged Kevin.

**00000**

"So, what do you say, Veronica?" Principal Weatherbee's voice sounded a lot warmer over the phone than in person.

Or maybe it was just that he really, really wanted this favor.

"Uh, I do have quite a bit going on right now-," Veronica tried to buy some time to think through her answer. In many ways this was precisely what she'd been looking for to help boost her college applications and her résumé.

It was also a massive undertaking on very short notice.

"I plan to arrange extra credit for you, speak with your teachers about arrangements as needed and, if you would be willing to continue in the role for - let's say - the remainder of this calendar year-," Principal Weatherbee paused, clearly knowing that detail was likely to inspire a mixed reaction, "-I'd be pleased to include a note in your file and a formal letter detailing your involvement."

Well.

There was now officially no way that Veronica was going to turn the job down. However, she clearly had a strong bargaining position.

"Could I work with a few classmates on this?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Principal Weatherbee's tone became still warmer. "You're entirely in charge of this initiative. Let me know who is involved and what you think you might need, and I'll do whatever I can to work it out. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your willingness to pitch in like this. I don't mind saying that this is the kind of thing that really helps an applicant stand out when it comes to colleges."

"Well, thank you. I'm flattered you thought of me," Veronica smiled.

"There wasn't even a second choice." Weatherbee's smile was audible. "We'll keep in touch, yes?"

"Of course. Thank you for calling." Veronica was smiling as well as she got off of the phone.

"Sorry for eavesdropping, but was that actually-," Alice looked over from where she was doing homework.

"Yes! Principal Weatherbee!" Veronica was suddenly extremely grateful for Alice's presence in the household. She felt like she was about to burst with the need to dish, and to verbally process the news that she'd just received - and Betty was busy working through everything with Kevin. "I'm going to need your help, too. You know how Southside High is merging with Riverdale High in, like, two and a half days?"

"I am aware, yes," Alice's tone was dry, but she was smiling with a gratifying amount of curiosity. "Are you being recruited to help figure out the space issue?"

"No. This is so much more than that." Veronica suddenly felt businesslike as she began thinking through the logistics, and ideas were coming more quickly than she could put them into words - or file them away mentally. "I am the official student body liaison for the Southside students, and in charge of 'smoothing their integration' into Riverdale High. There's a _budget_, and -," Veronica stopped. "I have to assign peer mentors for Monday. I need you, Alice. I _need _you."

"I'll be a peer mentor. Sure." Alice shrugged.

"Alice," Veronica chuckled; she must be so far beyond panic over the abrupt increase in her workload that it was officially funny. "Oh, Alice. I am going to need help with a whole lot more than that. I probably already have information in my Email. What are you doing for the rest of today?"

"Um, hello. I am 'smoothing the integration' of the Southside High students. Obviously." Alice grinned. "Just tell me what you need. Can I choose who I mentor?"

"Of course. I'm going to get Jughead to share all the gossip he knows so that we can try to anticipate any interpersonal issues." Veronica's determined expression was warring with a powerful grin. "This is going to be great. This is going to add so much to this school year."

"Yeah. Like several hundred students, just for instance," Alice quipped. "Count me in for whatever. I'm more than ready to meet new people and have a new project. _The Blue and Gold_ is running a little too smoothly to keep me nearly as entertained as I like to be."

"Only you would say that, Alice." Veronica's tone was appreciative, though, and not judgmental. "You're really willing to be my… right-hand woman on this? That would be beyond amazing. You'd be so perfect for it."

"Have I said yes three times or four? Do you want me to write it in blood? I will if you need me to, but that's kind of gross. I'm _in_, Veronica. What do we do first?" Alice wasn't sure how much of her own enthusiasm was a reaction to finally having a project that was not boring, but she was not going to question it. It felt good, and she fully intended to ride that feeling for as long as possible.

"You are a life saver." Veronica was surprised to feel as though this might all be manageable - and then she twitched as if she'd been jolted. "And we need to start right this second. Let me get my laptop; we'll start with a spreadsheet."

"Because nothing worth doing ever happens without a spreadsheet," Alice teased.

Veronica looked up, suddenly feeling self-conscious. When she realized that Alice was smiling with approval, though, Veronica relaxed and laughed. "Are you any good with Excel?"

"Prepare to be underwhelmed - but also slightly less overworked." Alice smirked. "I can handle the basics."

"You're hired." Veronica was beaming as she retrieved her laptop and then began pulling up information. "Bless Weatherbee. It's all in my Email already."

Alice looked over her shoulder. "Well, I think I can see who the Serpents are, based on the 'preferred name' column alone."

"What?" Veronica had been looking at addresses and wondering if that would be a smart way of sorting the list.

"Look at the preferred names, Veronica."

Oh wow.

"Maybe don't match anyone we like with that guy." Alice pointed to the name "Adam 'Slow and painful death' Harper."

"I'm guessing they added this option to their online interface and didn't have anyone in admin editing it," Veronica tsked. "Rookie mistake. He's probably just in it for the yearbook laughs."

"Okay." Alice had to admit that that particular 'preferred name' did not roll off the tongue. "We're definitely asking Jughead for intel, though."

"Oh, yeah." Veronica pointed to another name. "I mean, seriously. Fangs?"

"I'll work with anyone who goes by Sweet Pea," Alice offered, figuring she'd stake a claim before they got much further.

"That one might be real. It sounds like an ironic nickname." Veronica scanned until she found the name. "Oh, okay - he's in our year. He's all yours, Alice. Definitely let me know what a guy who goes by 'Sweet Pea' is like."

"I will." Alice nodded. "Want me to mock up a list of Riverdale High students, organized by year?"

"Perfect." Veronica began typing in her spreadsheet. "We should think about events, too. Mixers. Maybe after we get the peer mentor part done we can look at the school calendar and sketch out some ideas."

"Definitely." Alice's mind began to race now, too. "What kind of budget are we looking at?"

"I think we might have some leverage," Veronica said with relish. "Weatherbee sounded desperate."

"Ni-ice. I already love this job." Alice pulled out some scrap paper. "I'm going to keep a running list of ideas while I work."

Veronica stopped after she'd entered a few more names into the spreadsheet and eyed Alice, where she was making a list of names and stopping from time to time to write another idea onto her list.

How had she never known about this side of Alice? For the first time, having an 'almost sister' was kind of awesome.

**00000**

FP had expected Jughead to be moody and Brandon to be frustrated with his moodiness when he got home from work on Friday evening. He was worried about Joaquin, furious with the Serpents for having taken unconscionably long to report him missing, and exhausted from a long day of construction and working with Sheriff Keller - not to mention being brought in to lie through his teeth to Kevin.

It was one thing to list all of the many, many reasons why Kevin should not search for Joaquin. It was quite another to give in to Keller's insistence that FP suggest that he _regretted_ having searched for Jughead. But Keller had said that was what he needed, and so FP had made a good faith effort; Tom was trying to work with him to make sure that the investigation of Joaquin's disappearance was not back-burnered by law enforcement, so a simple favor was hardly beyond the pale.

It had also seemed like Betty salvaged at least some of that debacle after FP had been caught flat-footed by Kevin having a version of events from Jughead that he'd never heard before - not in quite that way.

After a day like that, FP was not feeling patient about the prospect of mediating the tiff that Jughead and Davies would no doubt shake off within a day or two anyway.

However, that was not what greeted him when he entered the house.

"We're having a bake-off, dad, and you're the judge. Do you even want any dinner? We're gonna need you hungry."

Based on Jughead's skipping right over any explanation of the obvious, FP assumed that Brandon had already told Jug that he knew about Davies' arrival.

And the kitchen was a disaster on the scale that Southside High would soon be - once the demolition team got through with it. Trigger was licking the kitchen tiles, though it was not clear what had spilled there.

"What... have you done?" FP managed.

"We started with apple turnovers, but then we wanted to try a cake recipe, and Brand challenged me to a pie-eating contest - but don't worry, that's tomorrow at the soonest, we're just baking the pies tonight - and we thought Kevin might appreciate some dark chocolate no-bake cookies, and the bananas were looking brown-,"

"Did you drink coffee?" FP interrupted.

"No, Dad." Jughead gave him an irritated look in response to the question, but as quickly as his frown had appeared it melted into a smile and he was coming over to hug his father. "I'm just… glad that Brand's here. That was a great surprise."

FP wrapped his arms around his son and felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"You really had me worried that something was going on with you," Jughead continued, tightening his embrace slightly as he chided his father, and then stepping back. "But it's perfect timing; Brand can find Joaquin. I was worried that the police wouldn't take things seriously - and Kevin and Betty both asked me to make sure the FBI was looking into things if I could. Now I definitely can."

This was the first Brand had heard of that particular narrative. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid." He turned to FP. "I was just trying to make some stuff that Jones would be likely to scarf down so I won't lose him if he turns sideways."

"Hm." FP looked around the destroyed kitchen again. This was a lot to take in after what had already been an overwhelming day. "Well, I have some news about Southside High."

"Archie told me at lunch," Jughead jumped away from FP when a buzzer sounded, and he picked up a pan - and exchanged it with one that had already been in the oven and was apparently done baking. "Are you going to be working on it?"

"Probably. At least some of the time." FP eyed his son with some concern. He was a little manic, and that might be due to his excitement over having Brandon back in town - or a sugar high, for that matter, since a contact high might even be possible with the amount of baked goods currently in their kitchen - but a lot had happened in the span of just twenty-four hours.

Jughead sometimes had strange responses to stress.

"I'll be working on some other projects too," FP added. "I won't be spending a whole lot of time in the Southside."

"Mr. Andrews got worried?" Jughead guessed, giving his dad a sympathetic look.

"_No_. I asked for this arrangement, thank you very much," FP frowned in response to his son's assumption that Fred structured his work schedule around concerns of that nature. Yes, they'd had a conversation since it was a valid _question_, but Fred did not give him marching orders when it came to the Serpents or the Southside. "Anyway, there are going to be some more announcements and the mayor is giving a speech next week."

"Yeah, so I heard. I'm planning to go with Betty and Archie and Veronica. Maybe Alice." Jughead nodded. "Want to come, Brand? Dad probably can't make it, since he's been working so much."

"I'm going too," FP interjected. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. Take a breath, boy. Let me finish a thought."

"He was like this at work, too," Brand offered. "I had him run with Trigger after we got back, but it barely took the edge off. He and Clark were maniacs getting through paperwork. I thought they'd be peeling grapes and fanning me if we didn't get out of there fast."

"You're like a god to him, Brand," Jughead said with an impish grin. "That's going to keep being a problem, too, since he wants me to be his wingman while he worships you with hard work and coffee. And who knows what else he's going to come up with."

"Well, be sure that you're taking notes," Brand directed. "I happen to _like _his attitude, and I'm hoping it rubs off on you."

"I take it the reunion went smoothly?" FP asked.

"Aside from making me think I was having a psychotic break in the workplace? I still can't believe you kept it a secret. I _knew _you were both lying to me," Jughead tried to look aggrieved, but he couldn't quite stop smiling over Brand being back in town. "Bu-ut Brand did accuse Agent Williams of sexually harassing me, so it didn't go _quite _as smoothly as it could have."

"What was she doing?" FP's expression darkened. Jughead was clearly suggesting that Brandon's actions had not been necessary, but that did not mean a whole lot. Jughead still looked at much of life from a unique perspective.

Which Brandon would no doubt say was 'one way of putting it.'

"Nothing, Dad. I was just explaining that Kevin is Joaquin's boyfriend, so they don't have to look for a girlfriend he might have run off with," Jughead explained.

"Williams inquired about Jones' sex life," Brand corrected Jughead's version of events. "No accusations were made. I merely gave her a polite reminder that we have policies in place to prevent a hostile work environment."

"Uh-huh." FP looked from one stubborn expression to the other. "I'm going to have to meet this Agent Williams one of these days."

This was the disadvantage of keeping his own work with the FBI entirely separate from the resident agency. It would be nice to be able to put faces with names when things of this nature came up.

"_Dad_."

That was Jughead's most obvious tell: it meant that Brandon was more right than wrong this time. FP gave Jughead a serious look. "Do not engage in conversations that make you uncomfortable. Not in the workplace or anywhere else."

"It was _fine_."

"In the future, then." FP maintained eye contact until Jughead nodded and then looked away.

It was astonishing to FP how many of these little pockets of dysfunction were hiding until just the right set of circumstances - or the wrong ones - brought them to light. FP had gotten pretty good at having these conversations with Jug quickly and decisively, though, and then watching for any signs that they needed to have follow-up chats.

Brandon looked impressed, too. Good. His endless lectures were not always as productive as he thought they were, though FP had to admit that Jughead enjoyed analyzing subjects far more than he ever had at that age. So maybe there was room for both approaches.

But sometimes it was good to get the talk over and done with.

"Davies, I take it you had a safe trip?" FP finally greeted their houseguest, stepping in for a flour-dusted hug.

"You bet," Brand confirmed, slapping his back twice and then stepping back to motion him toward the apple turnovers. "I'll make us some actual dinner, but these turned out well if you're hungry right away."

FP would not turn that down, and when Jughead quickly slid one of his own onto a plate for him as well, so that he could 'judge,' FP pulled a chair up to the kitchen island so that he could join the rest of the wolf pack without actually participating in the baking frenzy.

Hopefully Jughead's high energy and sugar intake would cause him to crash before it got too late, too. Because FP and Brandon needed to discuss a few things.

**00000**

"We may need you full time at Southside High. The timing on that is…" Brandon trailed off. "Well. That mold was there long before anyone told the mayor about it."

"I _just _sat down with Fred and cleared everything else." FP sighed. "Let me tell you, he wasn't thrilled, either. I know that's my own fault; he's been through the wars with me and if he thinks that all this is a sign I'm going back to the Serpents... well, he knows me. There's not a whole lot that I can say. I know this is what I'm being paid to deliver, but I did not expect to have my work disrupted and my boss - my friend - alienated."

"Want me to send someone over to speak to Andrews?" Brandon did not seem nearly as concerned by the situation. "Banner can have a chat with him. Fred's not a security risk, and he owns the company outright. I honestly can't picture him saying no if we make it official. As an added bonus, that will ensure that he won't try to run interference with the kid or anything." Brandon smirked. "I could see him doing that if he thought you were back with the Serpents. Nightly tattoo checks. Meals on the doorstep. D.A.R.E. pamphlets in the mailbox."

"None of that is funny, Davies." In fact, FP could visualize it all too easily. "But... can you do that? Have Banner tell Fred what I'm actually doing?" FP was not sure how he felt about his close friend knowing all of this - or some of this, as was more likely to be the case - but that would certainly make the arrangements easier. "I thought nobody wanted to do that."

"Like I said, it's Fred Andrews. It's Andrews Construction." Brand was matter of fact. "It's not usually this simple, and whoever you've been interfacing with probably pictured a larger business and maybe an iffier owner - or multiple joint owners of the company. Any of that makes it a whole lot more complicated."

"Well. Let's do it that way, then." FP nodded, relieved. "I honestly didn't mind staying away from Southside High, but if being down there means I won't have as many hours to log as an 'asset,' then I'm all for it."

"The kid _is_ looking neglected. Thin." Brand smirked when FP glared at him. "Seriously, though, I'll back you up on that. We can tag team him so he has a little more supervision, and I'll be with him at the agency. We'll try to keep those Sundays open for you, too. Give the well-adjusted one a run for his money."

FP shook his head at Brandon's use of the irritating nickname, but he had to admit that he was surprised and pleased by his willingness to help him carve out time with Jughead while managing both his day job and his new role with the FBI. "Thanks, Brandon. I appreciate it."

"Oh, don't look so worried about owing me. I need you to pay me back right away, with interest." Brand quirked his eyebrows. "Agent Williams is driving me nuts, and that sort of thing is right up your alley."

"She gunning for your job already?"

"I'm thinking there might even be a voodoo doll in play," Brand grimaced.

"Well, talk me through it." FP leaned back with a smile. "Let me see what I've got for you."

**00000**

Jughead was up early on Saturday morning. He was eating an apple turnover and Brand was sipping coffee when it occurred to his godfather that it was a little _too_ early.

"What time does your shift start, kid?"

"I'm going to meet Clark an hour before we usually show up." Jughead yawned, but Brand knew he'd gone to bed at a decent hour - when he had indeed crashed - and was probably well rested.

"Do I even want to know what you two are cooking up?"

"You said it yourself - you want me to be more like him, Brand." Jughead finished the apple turnover he was eating and reached for another one.

"You need protein too. I'll make you some eggs," Brand offered. "Got any bacon around here?"

Trigger came jingling down the stairs to investigate when he heard his favorite word.

"Maybe," Jughead checked the refrigerator. "Score - we do. But we have to be quick, or I won't be on time to meet Clark."

Brand gave him a look. "Do not go overboard. I don't mind the hard work and the sucking up, but if you two start getting in the way around the agency I'm going to have to crack down. Put you both in a time-out or something."

"Don't make Clark _cry_, Brand." Jughead grinned at the mental image of Brand breaking out his old disciplinary habits on the FBI. "All he wants is for you to be impressed by his dedication."

"Dedication is fine," Brand responded as he pulled out a pan for the bacon. "Keep him reined in from going too far beyond that, though. You need to sleep from time to time. And I thought we'd ride in together. If you go in an hour early, so do I."

Jughead had not thought of that. Brand had not yet gotten a rental car.

"Can Dad give you a ride?"

"I have to go to work." FP was coming down the stairs toward the open kitchen and living room area. "You can both go in early and talk to Clark together."

"No." Both Brand and Jughead spoke the word in unison.

"No to riding together or no to talking to Clark?" FP saw the coffee ready and waiting - and the bacon in the pan - and he smiled as he got himself a mug. "He-ey. This is nice, Davies."

"Just earning my keep."

"No to talking to Clark, Dad. I'll give Brand a ride; I just want to stay as anonymous as possible. If Clark finds out that I know Brand, it will be a disaster."

"More than when he eventually finds out on his own, and he's upset that you've been lying?"

That was a fair point.

"Brand, you're good at lying. He never has to know, right?"

Brand raised an eyebrow and did not look particularly pleased with that line of reasoning. "I'm not convinced that I'd be the weakest link in this scenario, kid."

"See, Dad? As long as I can keep it quiet-,"

"That is not what Brandon just said. Or what he meant." FP took a sip of coffee. He needed to be more awake if he was going to keep up with this conversation. "If you're going to continue to be friends with Clark in the long term, after the internship ends, you should think about how honest you need to be with him now."

Jughead sighed. "Fine. I'll tell him today. Or maybe on Monday."

"Good." FP nodded once.

Brandon had been using a fork to place more bacon in the pan on the stove top, but he stopped to reach over and tousle Jughead's hair in approval. "Hey, kid, your hair's getting long again. Making me work for it, huh?"

"I like it this way, Brand," Jughead replied firmly, anticipating where the conversation was likely to go next. "And I'm not going to comb it back like I'm working for the IRS."

"Is _that_ what you think I look like?"

FP shook his head. Brandon was definitely back. Taking his coffee with him, FP left the kitchen to get ready for work.

A scuffle was already breaking out behind him, even as the bacon started making a hissing sound from the pan. Hopefully this would not end in a grease fire. But FP had to admit that the kitchen had somehow gotten clean after the disaster the night before. If Jughead was not up to handling it, apparently Brandon was.

FP was starting to trust that things would be fine - even when the path was not quite what he imagined or entirely preferred - where Davies was concerned.

And, although the report of Joaquin's disappearance had only coincidentally lined up so precisely with Brandon's arrival in town to work on the larger case involving the Serpents, FP had to admit that he was more aligned with Jughead on the issue than he cared to say.

Having Brandon Davies on the case was reassuring.

**00000**

Archie arrived at Southside High with his father and looked around for any sign of the demolition crew.

Because that was _definitely_ where he wanted to work today.

"The press are going to show up in an hour or two, so you might be interested in seeing how that's handled," Archie's dad had parked the truck and was getting out. Archie followed suit, and they walked toward Southside High together. "There's also a police presence around the site, so you should be safe wherever you go on the campus - but please stay on the property. I'm guessing you'll want to hop between crews today and see some of everything. FP will be working with Jonathan, but I know you're also interested in seeing more of the demolitions setup."

Archie had already spent part of the week sitting through the more complicated, math-heavy discussions, and then shadowing and helping out as he was able on some of the more hands-on work. He wanted to see the process through to the end, particularly now that final decisions were being made so that they would not need to work inside of the structure during the speeches and PR portions of the project.

"Are you just going to be working with the mayor and the press today?" Archie knew his eagerness to work with others on the job site might bother his dad if he didn't even ask what his father was up to - and he would make a point of spending at least a little time shadowing him later in the day.

"That's on the docket, but a lot more of that will happen later on. Today I'll primarily be working with all of the various crews and making sure they're seeing the same things I did - and that Jonathan did. Always listen to the experts you're paying, Archie." Fred patted his son's shoulder with a smile.

"Solid advice," Archie agreed solemnly.

"Go on. Find the demo guys." Fred smiled at Archie's obvious effort to spend time with his father and take an interest in his role - even though he clearly wanted to spend as much time as he could learning the ins and outs of using explosives to bring down a structure safely and effectively.

"Okay. I'll come and find you later." Archie did not need to be told twice. He disappeared into the condemned highschool at a jog.

"Hey, you figured out where the action is," Jonathan greeted Archie warmly. "I'm the logistics guy today, so you should go talk to Dave if you want to learn about the cool stuff."

Archie grinned. "Dave, huh? I will. What kind of logistics are you working on?"

"All of 'em." Jonathan was clearly proud of this. "I'm taking point on coordinating the teams this week, since we need everyone running like a well-oiled machine as long as the town's eyeing our work site like it's a national park."

"Whoa." Archie had not thought too much about the way they would need to present the job while the cameras were around, but it made some sense that their usual approach might not be terribly photogenic. "You get to give all the orders? You're... choreographing everyone?"

"More like I'm everyone's errand boy." Jonathan held up an impressive-looking key ring. "With the one ring to rule them all, nothing gets done unless I put my stamp on it. It's starting to feel like I've walked every inch of this school a hundred times. I'm not complaining, though."

"It's okay if you are; that sounds exhausting." Archie knew that a lot of the guys were careful about what they said in front of him. Which was honestly fine by him, since it wasn't like he wanted to hear anyone's beefs with his dad, but all the same - Jonathan didn't need to impress Archie by pretending the hard work was something it wasn't.

"You're okay, Archie." Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder. "Go catch up with Dave, though. That's where I'd want to be if I were you."

Archie grinned again as he moved to introduce himself to the man Jonathan had pointed out.

**00000**

"Can you walk from here?"

"We're a block away from the agency, Jones. They have a perfectly good parking lot."

"Please, Brand? Just let me talk to Clark before he sees us... carpooling. That will definitely go better."

"'Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying-,'"

"That's Shakespeare." Jughead shot his godfather a look of surprise at his unexpectedly resuming their game.

"Good work. All right. Just for that, I'll get out of the car and walk a _whole block_ so that you can cover your butt. And when Clark finds out, he'll know right away that you were so callous as to force your own godfather to make my way down the sidewalk, over the rough cracks and dangerous-,"

"Brand, just _go _already."

Brand got out then, slowly and dramatically, shooting his godson a grin as he did so.

Yeah, lying was far more work than it was worth.

**00000**

Clark had already made the coffee.

"Hey, you said that you'd show me-,"

"I got here twenty-five minutes ago, and there is even more going on than we knew, Jones," Clark shushed Jughead and pulled him into the kitchenette. "The SAC is here. An _interim _one. He only got promoted a few weeks ago, was appointed to our field office yesterday, and the fact that he's visiting _this_ resident agency right now - all of a sudden - where Agent Quinn just happens to be visiting? Where Special Agent Davies just showed up? This is big. Something is going down. Any minute now we're going to be read in, and it is going to be _epic_."

"Clark. Literally all that happened is that we have a new SAC - and he's only temporary. This is probably a training thing, and I bet he needs to visit all of the resident agencies. He has less seniority than Special Agent Banner." Jughead shook his head. "You have too much time on your hands. You're totally overthinking this."

"Did you even Google Special Agent Davies?" Clark was not deterred from his reasoning - or his excitement - in the slightest.

"Oh. Um, about that-,"

They were interrupted when a voice called from the adjoining room full of cubicles.

"Jones."

Jughead frowned as he turned to respond; the voice was familiar, but-

Oh god.

Jughead stopped in his tracks in the doorway of the kitchenette, and Clark collided with him since he hadn't anticipated the abrupt halt.

Just then Brand walked into the room as well, from another office. He frowned at Jughead's expression - and then looked over at the new SAC. Brand froze as well.

It wasn't just Jughead seeing this, then.

"You're looking well, Jones. I'm delighted to see that you're thriving. This is the sort of internship that can really chew someone up and spit them out if they're not up to the challenge."

Jughead looked over to Brand, his brow furrowing, and he was reassured when his godfather made his way quickly across the room toward him as if in protection - defense - of Jughead. Brand's expression was murderous for a moment, but then it smoothed to become blank.

"Life lesson, Jones. There are always strings attached," Brand muttered while he grabbed Jughead by the arm. "Everything's fine. Just come with me for now. Don't say a word."

Jughead had just enough time to lock eyes with Clark, who looked painfully confused, before he was hustled away.

Because their new boss was apparently Special Agent Donn.

**00000**

**Woo-hoo! I'm on the move this week and slightly under the weather, so your notes are even a little bit extra welcome as I try valiantly to keep my feet under me. I'll enjoy thinking about the story's next twists and hearing your thoughts. :) (and, as always, the humane management of cliffhangers is important to me! :)**

**I hope you are having a lovely week!**

**-Button**


	9. Chapter 9

**I hate getting sick... but I appreciate your good wishes and really, really enjoyed the lovely reviews! And here we are in chapter nine!**

**Living Lucid Dream, thanks for the review! I agree that Keller's getting a little desperate, even if Kevin _was_ inspired by FP - so he was the best man for the job in that sense. Just... not any of the other senses? :) Kevin does deserve all the hugs, yes! I'm glad Alice and Veronica's dynamic is making you smile. I think they've got a road ahead of them, and it's starting to take shape! Your comment made me laugh about trying to kill Fangs all the time. I guess we'll see, but I don't think I can compete with the show on that. :-D Baking machines for sure, too - they're really 'anything' machines when they get going, since Jug has maybe developed a tinge of the obsessive tendency that Brand has made a full career out of. :) And yeah, the tension with Fred was painful, and I'll be relieved to see things cleared up too. They've worked so hard to get to a good place. Yay for Donn being a surprise twist! And yes, panic buttons are being hit... And Clark is still in the dark, at least for now. :)**

**Guest, thank you for the great reviews! I'm also really enjoying seeing Brand and Jug have more of a friendship, and I think Jug and Alice's friendship is going to make it - in spite of bumps along the way. I also like your analysis that Brand is likely to mitigate issues with FP. It's one of the biggest shifts between them in this story, and Brand is _really_ not used to having to do that with him. We'll see how it plays out! I'm so glad you liked the line from Jughead's phone conversation - that was one of my favorites too. :) I'm excited about Joaquin and Southside High getting some more space in the story, as well; I'll look forward to hearing your thoughts as that unfolds. Having Brand at work with Jug and Williams and everyone should continue to be interesting, also... :)**

**Skyrider45, there's something so nice about simply hearing that you enjoyed the last chapter. I'm so glad! :) And I totally agree - FP's got the inspiration gene, and I'm looking forward to seeing more of it in this story as he gets to do cool stuff. I'm glad you like his dynamic with Betty, too. :) It also made me so happy that you liked the spreadsheet line, BTW. :-D The pot is definitely well stirred now, and I'll look forward to hearing your thoughts as things continue to heat up! Also, thanks for the good wishes! I am hoping to be on the mend soon, and at the very least life has not been overly disrupted (whew!). :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Jughead did not get to tell Clark anything.

Brand took Jughead by the arm, literally marched him to the restroom - which was never a good sign for what was to follow - and, ignoring his increasingly frantic questions, ushered him into what had to be the tiniest office in the building for the remainder of his shift.

"Keep your head down while I figure this out, kid," Brand ordered, but then he hesitated. "Hey, are you cold?"

Jughead was surprised to realize that he was shivering. Even his teeth were chattering, though he didn't feel cold. He shrugged.

"Take my jacket. The heat's on, so it should warm up in here soon." Brand eyed Jughead closely as he handed him the brown leather jacket he still had draped over one arm. Jughead put it on obediently, though it didn't seem to help at all with the shivering. "I'll call your father to pick you up at the end of your shift, just in case there are any more surprises in town. You're safe here, and I'm going to lock you in for the time being. I've got the only key, so keep the door shut, okay?"

Brand rubbed Jughead's right arm briskly, as if to try and warm him up. "I won't go far; just send me an Email at my work address if you get… lightheaded."

Oh. Brand thought he was in shock or something.

Jughead attempted to get information one last time. "Brand, what's-,"

"I don't _know_, Jones. That's the whole problem. Head down. Door locked. I'll be back for you later," Brand repeated. He was already shutting Jughead in the closet-sized office.

It was a whole new world of time-outs.

Which wasn't awkward or anything.

At least the tiny office was hidden in a maze of hallways, and it had been early in the morning. Jughead was pretty sure that nobody other than Brand and Clark - and Agent Donn - even knew that he was at the agency for his Saturday shift. Nobody walked past the small glass window in the office door for about an hour.

Then Clark did - and he almost tripped when he caught sight of Jughead through the window.

Clark tried the office door and then knocked when it didn't open. Jughead waved to him and then shook his head when Clark motioned for him to open the door.

Clark frowned at him for a few moments and then disappeared. When he returned he was carrying a pad of paper and a pen.

'You okay?'

Jughead nodded, giving Clark an amused look for spelling out the word 'okay.'

'Locked in?'

Jughead nodded again.

'Need me to explain Geneva Conventions to Davies?'

Despite everything, that made Jughead laugh. He shook his head but still did not attempt to explain. They didn't need competing stories circulating.

Clark seemed relieved, even though he was clearly taken aback by all of this and somewhat worried, which was nice of him.

He gave up on the notes after that, but throughout Jughead's shift Clark made a point of walking past the tiny office regularly, even though it was definitely out of his way. He gave Jughead sympathetic looks through the small glass window and even managed to slip two protein bars under the door since there was a pretty big gap.

Jughead wondered what Brand was telling people. He could only imagine.

The work was more or less the same, and Jughead figured he should just be grateful that Brand had at least left him with a laptop and a pile of paperwork. He worked steadily, glad to be marginally distracted from the situation with Special Agent Donn.

His shift eventually ended.

Then it was eight minutes past the end of his shift.

Twelve minutes.

Fourteen minutes.

"You should know that pacing looks ridiculous in an office this small." Brand finally opened the door to let Jughead out. "Let's go. Your dad's here for you. Keep my jacket for the day if you want, but I've got more work to do and I'm planning on sticking around until I get some answers, so I'm gonna need your car keys."

"You mean you don't want me to scream like hell whenever I see your boss? _Our _boss?" Jughead took off Brand's jacket and handed it back to his godfather. He did not move to exit the room, though. The shaking had eventually stopped, and despite a powerful instinctive desire to get out of this tiny box that passed for an office, he had no intention of leaving until he'd been given more information.

Brand ignored the question.

"I told everyone that you might have chickenpox. You were quarantined because I don't want anyone getting shingles. That is not medically possible, so please pretend I'm not literate on the subject. You couldn't go home until I got your dad over here, but you'll have a clean bill of health by Monday if I get the answers I need from the higher-ups."

Jughead crossed his arms.

Brand crossed his arms in response.

"Clark knows that doesn't entirely make sense - medically, since he's not an idiot, and also because he saw that Donn was the reason we had to put you in lockdown. But you were right about him worshipping me. He's been circumspect. Except for calling attention by wandering off to visit you whenever he had an excuse."

Brand shrugged a little too casually, and Jughead realized that he must have made the decision not to stop Clark's visits to the tiny office. He wasn't sure if he was more confused or grateful about that. Maybe it was simply that Brand hadn't wanted to be the one to call (far more) attention to Jughead's imprisonment, so he'd been happy to have Clark checking on him instead.

"Be sure to say goodbye to him so he doesn't worry that we've got you trapped in here all weekend, but we're good for now."

"Brand, _nothing _about this is good." Jughead suddenly felt like he was about to boil over with frustration. He turned away, trying to calm his reaction - and lower his blood pressure.

"Hey, killer, I'm right here," Brand stepped into the office, grasped Jughead's left shoulder, and turned him so that they were facing each other once again. "Donn won't try anything with me around, and I'm obviously not going to let him get you alone. This should all have been resolved over the summer; I just need to find out why he's here… unexpectedly."

"The internship, Brand." Jughead gestured in helpless frustration. "I already know you won't let Agent Donn put me in a wheelchair. I'm saying the _internship _is ruined."

Brand winced at the wheelchair comment, but couldn't stop a small smile over how confident Jughead was that his godfather would keep him safe.

"Huh. It's always good to hear that your priorities are ordered exactly as they should be, kid. Now, I need to confirm some things about Donn, and I don't want you alone until I do. Stay close to your father until I get back tonight -," Brand paused and gave Jughead a serious look for emphasis, "- which means no giving him the slip - but I'm pretty sure Donn won't be on site here again after this weekend. Not for a while, anyway. And I will be here, which means this is still the best place for you. I really think you'll be able to stick it out; we'll have you back to making coffee in no time."

Clark came around the corner just then. He was carrying a handful of protein bars and a cheese knife from the kitchenette, and when he saw Brand he stopped.

Brand turned to regard him thoughtfully, and his eyes rested on the small knife. He looked over at the office door's lock.

It wasn't the worst tool in the world for the job, but it was pretty close.

"Planning a jailbreak, Clark?"

"His shift is over, sir." Clark eyed Brand nervously, but he stood his ground and spoke firmly. "I didn't see him leave."

"You've had the varicella vaccine? You didn't just get chickenpox and call it a day?"

"Yes, sir." Clark stood even straighter. Jughead suddenly wondered if he thought this was some sort of code, and not just a (really) bad cover story.

"Carry on." Brand turned away from Clark to shoot Jughead an impressed look; apparently this was the kind of initiative he liked in an intern. He pocketed Jughead's car keys subtly, presumably so that Clark would not notice and ask questions. "Walk him to the parking lot, see that he gets to his father, and make sure that nobody else comes anywhere near him."

"Yes, _sir_." Clark looked like he wanted to salute. Jughead wanted to disappear.

Brand strode away.

"Oh my god, Jones, remind me to _never_ come to work sick," Clark gave a low whistle. "Are you okay? That was terrifying. You'll make a conspiracy nut out of me yet."

"Like that would take effort," Jughead shot back with a small smile. "I'm fine, Clark. Thanks for coming by to check - and for bringing food. And threatening to bring international law down on the place." Jughead took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Hopefully everything will be back to normal by Monday."

"You saw me stand up to Special Agent Davies just now, right?" Now that he'd confirmed that Jughead was okay, Clark gestured in the direction Brand had gone and looked very proud of himself. "We are officially wingmen for life. That was my entire career on the line for you."

"I saw, yeah." Jughead smiled again; that really was a big deal for Clark, and it was hard to be anything but impressed by someone who'd been willing to break into an office in a secure building - armed with only a cheese knife - to rescue a fellow intern. "Wingmen for life. Definitely."

**00000**

"The safety protocols are serious, and the literature I've collected for you should explain the reasons for that very clearly. I recommend that you read through all of this over the weekend," Clark handed FP a massive sheaf of papers in a manila folder through the car window, "and give serious thought to vaccinating your son. This is a minor scare compared to what it could one day be. You can call me with any questions, day or night; this is something I feel very strongly about."

Jughead was giving 'serious thought' to walking home. It would only take him an hour or two, and this was mortifying.

"I also recommend calling someone - and _not _the interim SAC in this instance - to inquire about the quarantine procedures on site if you have any concerns that this might become an issue again. Special Agent Davies took his car keys. I assume you can get those from him at any time, but I'd ask him a few questions as well if I were you."

FP was nodding very seriously, giving Clark his full attention and acting like this was deeply concerning and valuable information.

"Thank you, Mr. -,"

"Clark. I go by my last name; 'Harlow' is a bit much, even for me."

Jughead's eyebrows went up. This information was maybe even worth all of the frustrations of the day.

"If this _ever _comes up, I'll know exactly who told, Jones," Clark pointed at him with a knowing smile before returning his attention to FP. "You have a great son, and I really think you'll find that after a little research and reflection - and a few conversations - everything will be right as rain. I'll look forward to working with him on Monday."

FP thanked Clark again and drove a block away from the agency before he spoke to Jughead. "That is quite the condescending friend you've got there."

"He tried to rescue me with a cheese knife." Jughead shrugged. "Maybe you had to be there, but it was actually really cool of him. And he probably blew the agency's printing budget for the year getting you all of this vaccine research."

FP shot a skeptical look at his son. "He thinks I can't access the internet?"

"Brand basically told everyone I haven't been vaccinated, Dad. Clark thinks that means you can't _read_."

"Condescending." FP's tone suggested that was the final word on the subject. But then he continued. "How does he know about Donn? Or your car keys? Why is he trying to get me to raise Cain with the FBI over their quarantine protocols?"

"That's what I'm saying," Jughead tried to explain. "Clark's… an acquired taste. But he pays attention - I didn't even know he saw Brand take my car keys - and he really cares."

"Uh-huh."

Jughead let it drop.

"Brandon wants you back there on Monday." It was obvious that FP did not support this plan.

"Agent Donn won't be there, so…" Jughead watched his father's expression closely.

"We'll see. Brandon locked you in a closet?" That had been Clark's phrasing.

"It was an office, but yeah - it's about that size."

"I thought we were done with Davies locking you in closets."

That phrasing startled Jughead. "We are. This was-,"

"For your protection. So I've been told. But Jughead, where have I heard that before?" This time FP's glance over at Jughead was worried. "If there is any chance at all that trouble could start up again with Donn, and Davies decides that he needs to do even more for your protection-,"

"Brand isn't going to... _abduct _me again." Jughead tried out the words.

It was FP's turn to look startled.

"Jughead... I don't think you've ever used that word about Brandon before. You've _repeated _it when you were talking about what other people have said, but I have never once heard you use that word to describe what happened."

Jughead turned away to stare out the passenger side window. "Brand says it. He's always said that's what it was. Even though the media likes to say I was undercover, he always said that he kidnapped me. To protect me. So... yeah."

FP swallowed hard. Maybe he wasn't the only one having a bad reaction to Jughead being locked in a closet. "Do you want him in a hotel? I'll have him out of the house by the end of the day."

"Dad, _no_," Jughead's head snapped back around so that he was facing his father. "I'm not upset. I'm just saying - to _you_ \- that I get it. Don't tell Brand that I said this or he'll get all worried. But... I know what you're saying. I know what it looks like, and I want you to know that I'm seeing things clearly. Okay? Brand isn't going to keep me locked up, and he isn't going to try taking me away again - on a road trip or whatever. But I get why you're worried. I'm not being irrational, and I'm not blind. I promise."

A 'road trip.' They were already back to euphemisms. But that was probably normal, FP reflected. He was still shocked that Jughead had called the abduction what it was.

"Are you sure that you're okay with Davies being in the house?" FP wanted to be entirely clear on that.

"I _want_ him to stay with us, Dad. I've really missed Brand." Jughead saw relief in his dad's expression. He knew that his father had missed Brand too, albeit a lot less than Jughead had. And it was probably really jarring to suddenly wonder if he'd invited a kidnapper into the house - a second time - if there was any possibility at all that Jughead was living in fear of what might follow.

Even after everything, apparently Jughead could still just say the word and Brand would no longer be welcome in their home.

"Today was rough because of Donn, and honestly it was annoying to be stuck in a tiny office, but I wasn't worried. It was safer that way, at least while Brand couldn't keep an eye on things. He had to scramble to figure out why Donn showed up and he wasn't notified, and he's still not sure what happened. Apparently that's… weird."

FP grunted. "You want to know what's weirder?"

"Oh, boy. Here we go-," This had been a rant ever since they'd returned from Michigan, no matter what Brand said to explain to FP that the situation was fraught, complicated, and something he had a bead on - and some kind of control over.

"Jughead, the man is _psychotic_. And the whole world has lost its mind about him - or they don't believe me when I say what happened - and apparently they don't believe you either." FP's voice was quickly gaining volume and intensity. He'd kept his temper under control so far since Brandon had called him about the situation, but talking about Donn made that very difficult. "He's being promoted, and he just took over our region as far as the FBI is concerned. This is not paranoia; this is _fact_."

When he'd finished speaking, FP slammed a hand against the steering wheel for emphasis. Jughead flinched.

"I'll be safe with Brand," Jughead said quietly. He looked down at his work shoes. They were getting scuffed; he'd need to polish them over the weekend. "Donn won't even be there on Monday."

"The man is Brandon's boss. Best case scenario, he's just a few towns over, in the field office. There are limits to what we can be assured of." FP's voice was still raised, though he'd taken it down a notch; he took a breath and tried to calm himself down further, because it was obvious that his agitation was putting Jughead on edge. He managed to lower his volume to a normal speaking level when he continued. "If you feel _entirely _comfortable with Davies, and there's no more locking you up at work-,"

FP heard an inhalation as if an objection was about to follow; he took his eyes off of the road to look over at his son, "-_no more locking you up at work_, Jughead, and that is _not _negotiable - then yes, it might be the safest place for you while Donn's in the area for this 'interim' position. I actually agree with Brandon about that."

Jughead was relieved. He hoped that he could persuade Brand to hang up the key ring for the time being.

"But as soon as this temporary assignment as SAC is over and done with, I want Donn out of this region. Permanently."

**00000**

"Jughead claims to know almost nothing about the Southside High students," Veronica updated Alice on Saturday afternoon. "And apparently asking his father is not an option-,"

"Oh, Veronica. You think?" Alice laughed shortly. "That's a total non-starter. Is he grounded for even bringing it up?"

Veronica shook her head. "Mr. Jones is really not that bad, Alice. And, honestly, I don't think Jughead even asked him."

"Good. I'd tread lightly. Agent Davies is back in town, so things are probably insanely tense over there." Alice widened her eyes at Veronica for emphasis. "Take it from someone who has two unstable parents: we should not be rocking the boat right now for Jughead."

Veronica frowned.

"Look, I'm just saying be careful," Alice amended, seeing that Veronica disagreed with her analysis. "We have no idea what goes on behind closed doors."

"Now _that _I have learned." Veronica was surprised by how abruptly - and how firmly - she found herself in agreement with Alice, even though she was pretty sure that things were not actually that awkward between Mr. Jones and Brand. Not anymore.

Veronica looked over the paperwork and shrugged. "Well, I guess the upshot of having no new information is that you and I don't have any adjustments to make to the peer mentors. I can work on my homework."

"You aren't going to take an hour off? Come out with me for a while and do something fun with our unexpected freedom?" Alice beckoned.

"Tempting." It really was, and Veronica did not need to feign regret. "But I've got to get some things done or I won't be able to spend time with Archie tomorrow."

"Right. Of course." Alice nodded. "Well, I'll let you know what I end up doing, and tell you all about the fun you're missing."

"That sounds great, Alice." Veronica smiled in return. "Living vicariously is just about all I have time for at the moment, but I really do want to hear what you end up doing."

"I'm sure I'll think of something." Alice had a few ideas - and if Veronica would not be coming along, one of them had jumped straight to the top of the list.

**00000**

Alice had finally decided to track down Sweet Pea.

Which apparently involved going to a bar, based on the information she'd been able to pick up by keeping an ear to the ground for gossip and asking calculated questions about the highschools' combining student populations so that it would not be obvious that she was trying to find one of the Serpents.

And here she was, at the Whyte Wyrm, dressed for a day out and about in Toronto. Because she needed her game face on for this. Alice was hopelessly out of practice at making friends, or even walking around like it was her city - her town - too. It was high time that she reclaim some of her old attitude.

And so she walked into the Wyrm like she belonged there.

Oh, yuck.

This might not be worth it after all. Alice decided she'd make a quick circuit of the biker gang's hangout and then leave. After all, she'd walked in; she would not turn tail, but neither would she stick around in a dive like this.

Alice strode firmly forward, skirting around tables - and then pool tables - and taking everyone in as she did so.

"Welcome to the neighborhood, honey." A man who was older than her father caressed a barstool next to him in an invitation.

Actually, now that there were eyes on her, Alice was starting to have a little fun. She was not invisible in this bar. She arched an eyebrow at the man and stepped decisively past the empty barstool without responding. He chuckled, understanding the rules of the game and obviously enjoying the mere act of playing.

As with most biker gangs, there were quite a few older men and only a few women present. The teenage gang members might even hang out somewhere else for the most part. This was just a place to start, Alice decided. She'd get to know the Southside and find out whatever she needed to about this place in order to locate - and better understand - Sweet Pea.

And the Southside's allure was suddenly much more than just one person. Or maybe it was a different person that she was realizing she might be able to find here: Alice might be able to rediscover herself, now that she'd found a place where she was not constantly surrounded by people who had been directly affected by her parents' crimes.

"Alice?" A familiar voice boomed from behind a pool table.

It was amazing that she hadn't seen him right away; Sweet Pea was even taller than she'd remembered. A girl about their age was with him, and Alice's first impression was that she was trying too hard to achieve a 'look.' Alice raked her eyes over the girl and only the firm knowledge that she was in someone else's territory and did not yet know the rules made her smile in a warm and friendly manner.

"Your name is Alice too?" The girl seemed very surprised by that.

"Or maybe," Alice drawled playfully as she took firm control of the conversation, "the Alice _you've_ met is 'Alice two.' Most people learn pretty quickly that I'm an original."

Sweet Pea laughed appreciatively, and Alice was further emboldened. Not that she'd needed much emboldening. This return to her confident ways might take time before it was fully natural, but so far it felt fantastic.

"Nice-," Alice searched for an honest compliment, sizing the girl up swiftly "-hair." That was legitimate. Actually, any individual element of her style was not bad. The overwhelming effect of the combination was what Alice objected to. At least it wasn't one of Betty's overly coordinated outfits.

"Nice job torturing that shirt." The girl clearly did not appreciate that Alice had put work into making that compliment sincere, and her tone dripped with sarcasm over Alice's clever cutting and reshaping of the top to make it angle asymmetrically and frame her torso so that it looked almost impossibly tapered.

The shirt was actually in two pieces, and laced back into one garment by means of an incredibly delicate leather cord that wound through the airy fabric. Alice's back was exposed from her shoulder almost to the base of her spine, with the opening angled diagonally and narrowing as it went from her nearly bared right shoulder to her almost completely covered left hip where the gap closed.

Even as the girl called attention to the shirt, Alice could see her realizing that she'd made a tactical error. Every man and woman in the place took the opportunity to study the art that Alice had created with her love of edgy fashion and her muscular body.

She'd really gone for it today, too, in spite of it being somewhat chilly. Alice had not had a lot of opportunities to break out this portion of her wardrobe in Riverdale. It seemed like a bad idea while living with Veronica and Hermione, whose clothing tastes ran far more… classic. There was not much in their closets that approached 'edgy,' which was where Alice preferred to live.

Maybe now she'd found a place where 'edgy' would not exactly have competition - but it would find appreciation. Alice could live with that. When she eventually got back to a real city, she could fall back in with the fashionista crowds that kept her excited about new and unusual possibilities.

"I didn't catch your name." Now that Alice had started getting a read of the room - and liked what she saw of their reactions to her -, she could afford to be more generous. "You seem like someone I should know. At least based on the company you keep." Alice flicked her eyebrows to acknowledge Sweet Pea directly for the first time.

"Toni Topaz."

"Alice Carter."

"Alice two," Sweet Pea interjected, smirking down at both girls. "Alice Cooper is definitely Alice one. You can't change that."

"Let's leave it that I haven't changed that _yet_." Alice wasn't sure how they knew Betty's mother, but ignored the detail. Instead, she assessed the pool table where the game was clearly only beginning. "Don't let me interrupt. I'm just sightseeing."

"Oh, we're done," Sweet Pea assured her. "Toni, want to take a hike? Alice here wants to sightsee."

For a moment Alice thought that Sweet Pea was asking Toni to leave, but then it clicked: he literally wanted to take her - them - hiking.

That sounded like a recipe for getting murdered.

"Oh my god, look at her face," Toni laughed hard. "City girl much?"

"One who has made it this far and managed to stay alive, yeah," Alice could match Toni's sarcasm easily. "I'm not sure I have a burning need to see any more rocks and trees, Sweet Pea."

"Natural beauty, Alice," Sweet Pea gestured expansively and then secured his pool cue in its mounted rack on the wall. "You don't know what you're missing. What city are you from?"

The three of them started walking out of the bar together, and Alice looked around once again as they did so. She realized that she was looking for Joaquin - and at that realization she abruptly felt unsure of herself.

This was not a safe place, not even to those who belonged here, and Alice needed to keep her wits about her. The eyes on her from all parts of the bar might include those of people who knew exactly what had happened to Joaquin - and all of them had looked away for days after he'd gone missing.

These were not wholesome people.

Sweet Pea dropped a large hand on Alice's shoulder, though, and she looked up at him. Alice was tall, and still Sweet Pea dwarfed her. It seemed unlikely that there would be any trouble as long as he was escorting her.

Unless _he_ was trouble.

But Alice had to trust somebody in order to make a start in the Southside. Sweet Pea was as likely a person as any to take a chance on while she got the lay of the land.

"Toronto."

"Canada?" Toni sounded derisive again.

"Toronto's cool," Sweet Pea's tone was light. He wasn't disagreeing with Toni so much as commenting. "I like the graffiti."

"_So_ overexposed," Alice groaned. "Give me tagging any day. Wait, you've got to have that in the Southside. Got any decent taggers around here? I'd like to see their work."

Sweet Pea's eyebrows shot up.

"You're seriously interested in tagging, Canada girl?" Toni asked skeptically. The challenge in her voice was weaker now, though, and Alice suspected she'd win Toni over before too much longer.

"Oh, _I_ only tag when I'm _inspired_," Alice smirked. She knew full well that revelation would catch Toni flat-footed and she was gratified when the girl's mouth dropped open before she caught herself. "So, Sweet Pea. Inspire me."

Sweet Pea looked like he might only just be realizing that he'd taken on a whole lot more than he'd expected with Alice Carter.

It was cute. Alice thought 'flustered' was a good look on him, and happily it seemed like she might even have a talent for bringing that out in him.

This was fun.

**00000**

Brand sat down with FP. They needed to discuss Donn, the Southside, and the new approach being advocated by some at the Bureau - as long as FP was amenable.

And Brand found himself hoping that he would _not_ be amenable.

First things first, though.

"How's the kid?" Brand asked. Jughead had taken Trigger out for a run in the immediate neighborhood, and FP had the tracking app open so that he could monitor their progress. That had been their compromise over cancelling dinner plans with Betty.

"Well, he told me that he was absolutely certain you weren't working your way up to abducting him again." FP watched Brand closely for a reaction.

"He said that?" Brand frowned. "He usually doesn't say-,"

"Try 'never.'" FP interrupted. "You locked him in a closet at work and now he's using the word 'abduct.' And the word 'kidnap.' You panicked, Brandon. You can't panic like that. Not with Jughead."

Brand massaged his forehead. "Is he okay?"

"He claims that he's fine." FP shrugged. "But I'm not entirely okay, so I'm not sure he can be. The last time that happened, it was a preamble to him disappearing for months. Because that's the sort of thing that happens when you panic, Brandon, and it's unacceptable. You cannot do this to him, and you cannot do it to me."

"I'm sorry, FP," Brand said - and as he thought about it, he found that he truly was. "It wasn't a closet, just for the record. It was my office." Brand smirked at FP's perplexed expression. "I get the sense that SSA Phillips doesn't like that I'm in town. But yeah, maybe I should have sent the kid home right away. I just wanted to keep eyes on him, so to speak."

FP nodded, accepting the answer - and the apology. "I figured. That's why I'm _talking_ to you and nobody's dishing up ice cream. But you can't do that again. And you need to get Donn out of this area - and he cannot come back."

"Yeah, I know." Brand sighed heavily. "He's here to help. It's a long story, but someone's nervous that we've got more going on around here than we know."

"I happen to agree. I want to go into the Southside. Tonight. Things are shaking up over the highschools merging on Monday, and I want to get in there first."

"Well, that's something we need to discuss. At this point the Bureau wants that too, FP," Brand raised a hand when FP looked as though he considered that settled, "but it's dangerous. We have to have a conversation before you make any decisions, and if you want to go in - tonight - and pick up as leader of the Serpents on the FBI's dime, that conversation includes what happens to your son if you don't come back."

FP's brow knit. "Fred's on all the paperwork. You're not actually his godfather, Brandon."

"I know that." Brand had learned in Michigan that that was the arrangement, and probably had been from the moment Jughead had been recovered from Toronto. "But I want you to put something in writing so that he won't keep me from seeing Jones. He'll honor it if it's coming from you."

"I'll write something." FP frowned.

"If Donn goes rogue and comes after your kid - or anyone from the Southside does, for that matter - what do you want me to do?" Brand was speaking casually, as if to emphasize the dark nature of his words by delivering them so indifferently. "Fred would never let me move in with them. He doesn't believe in ghosts."

FP glared at him.

"FP, this is what you'd be leaving him in the middle of." Brand cocked his head to one side, questioningly. "Do you want me to grab him and run if you're dead and Andrews refuses to do what he needs to in order to keep him safe? I'm gonna need that one in writing too. It won't hold up in court, but the kid is gonna need that letter under his pillow. Because I can't take that dog if we're going to disappear, and I can't think of anything else that stands a chance of stopping the nightmares."

FP frowned deeply. He didn't answer.

"He needs you, FP," Brand softened his tone and laid a hand on the older man's shoulder. "The Southside doesn't need you. Not like Jones does. Let's find another way. It would be a different story if he hadn't bonded with you, but you took care of him. You let him love you. Now you have to deal with the consequences."

FP studied Brand. "I'm not putting you on the paperwork."

"I was already on it once. I gave him up for a lot of reasons, and those haven't all gone away." Brand raised a hand when FP looked confused. "I'd take him, of course I would; I'm only saying that Fred's your better shot as long as things stay safe. And for the record: you don't have to worry about me disappearing if custody belongs to someone else."

"You took care of him. You let him love you," FP repeated Brand's words back to him. "What would you do?"

"I'd be in the Southside tonight." Brand didn't hesitate, and he shrugged when FP gave him an irritated look. "That's me. I'd put Jones somewhere safe, preferably with someone I trust, and I'd make absolutely sure that I came back to him. I might need to get creative to pull that off, but it's one of very few promises that I've got outstanding."

"I've got a few promises outstanding in the Southside."

"I figured."

"If someone comes after him and you can't protect him here in Riverdale, you take him and run. I'll write him a letter."

"Good man." Brand was frowning thoughtfully. "I'm sorry I didn't send a letter with him. From Toronto. There wasn't time, and I didn't think-,"

"Write him one now, Brandon. Things happen." FP stood. "Let's get on it, too. If I'm doing this, I need the letter done before Jug gets back with Trigger."

Brandon waited while FP found paper and pens.

They both began to write.

**00000**

**More cliffhangers, sort of! I'm having so much fun with this one. :-D I'll look forward to reading your thoughts, and I hope you are looking forward to a lovely weekend!**

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	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten! And I stand corrected - last chapter might have been more than "sort of" a cliffhanger. ;) But, uh, this story might have a few things brewing and that one looked a little tamer than some of what is to come... You can judge for yourself as we keep digging in! :)**

**Living Lucid Dream, your Clark love makes me so happy! I always love the narrations of your reactions, too. :-D FP might have to navigate some differences with him, but I think Jug agrees with your assessment. :) I've also liked seeing how they use the term "time-out" in different ways, too - it's a threat that never actually came to life, so it's a slightly safer phrase for them to throw around. Or something. :) And yay for Alice and Sweet Pea (and now Toni as well)! They are super fun to write, and I think Sweet Pea might have his hands full as Alice continues to find her feet. We shall see! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much. :)**

**Thank you for the great review, Skyrider45! I was so happy to see everyone loving Clark as he gets some action (sort of). And he is his own unique self. :) Jug is navigating being closer with FP now, and squaring that with Brand being back, yeah. I like that you're still watching Brand with some concerns; he's shaped up a lot, but he's still unpredictable since his reasoning doesn't always make sense to everyone else... Yay for enjoying the Serpents! I am right there with you about S3 making them very confusing. Even the change from S1 to S2 had some hiccups for me, and I'm glad that (so far, at least) my vision for their trajectory is playing well for you. :) You are so welcome, by the way; I hope you enjoy this chapter too!**

**Thank you for the lovely review as well, Guest! I've loved FP navigating things as well as possible under tough circumstances in this story. I'm looking forward to seeing Alice and Veronica develop as well, and I love your description of Jug as "happy and settled." :) But then Special Agent Donn showed up... I look forward to hearing more of your thoughts!**

**As always... enjoy!**

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**00000**

"Don't go buying that dog shoes to make a matched set or he might run away from home - and he'll have my blessing," Brand warned as he set the macaroni and cheese he'd helped the kid make - since the warrior queen had to be uninvited from their original dinner plan - onto the table. "Although, you know, that right there's the primary reason you're not on a feeding tube."

Jones was lying on his stomach, taking photos of their grimy shoes by the front door while Trigger circled and stepped over him, trying to figure out what he was doing.

The kid looked up curiously. "What are you talking about? And I don't need Trig to have shoes. They just look interesting together: Dad's work boots and your dress shoes with my running sneakers. We have practically the same sized feet, too. I never noticed that before."

"Well, two thirds of that is simple genetics, Trip." Brand smirked. "You've got big feet, and you're still growing into them. That's what I mean about the feeding tube; we've been blaming your growth for some of the metabolism problem. Once you stop growing, if you don't gain some weight we're going to have to consider doing something more drastic to keep you alive."

The kid raised an eyebrow and had the gall to grab his dog for leverage, spin around on the wood floor, and take a few shots of the dinner prep that had continued even after he'd pulled out his camera and left the remaining work to his father and godfather.

"Cut that out."

"Just be glad he doesn't have the macro lens," FP said without looking up from where he was setting out water glasses. "That's the one that really gets in the way." He had clearly long since resigned himself to being photographed while doing random things around the house.

Jones grinned up at them both and took another picture when Brand narrowed his eyes at him.

"That's enough. Finish setting the table, Jones. We'll both still be here after dinner."

FP paused then to give Jones a searching look. He was usually quick on the uptake, but apparently the idea that the kid was taking pictures because things felt unstable - like he needed these quieter moments frozen and preserved - had not occurred to him.

Brand had seen this brewing, though, ever since Jones had slipped into the house like a ghost after his run. He'd cautiously watched both adults for any sign that they were fighting before he'd retrieved a book from his room and then tucked himself and the monster into a corner of the sofa where he could keep an eye on everything.

Brand had let the kid relax for about twenty minutes before he'd drawn him into meal prep and conversation. The ritual of cooking together seemed to do a lot of work persuading him that things were okay - but then the camera had made an appearance.

"Let him take his pictures, Brandon. He's working on building up a collection since we lost 'em all in the trailer fire. You're the one who got our resident photographer safely out of all that mess, so now you're officially part of the rebuilding effort."

Both Jones and Brand turned to stare at FP.

"What?" The kid's father looked uncomfortably from one incredulous expression to the other. "I _am _capable of acknowledging the good along with the bad. And don't get me wrong - I'm not saying there wasn't a whole lot of bad."

Brand wasn't sure what he'd call the face Jones made then, but it looked a little bit like hope that was trying not to get the crap kicked out of it by some sort of negative emotion.

It also looked like FP was noticing that, and was already regretting what was presumably his response to Jones calling the events of that evening an 'abduction.' FP must be trying to meet him halfway or something. And it seemed like that should be a good thing.

Brand attempted to intervene before Jones' powerfully conflicted expression undid that good - and probably knocked them back a few steps further in the process.

"I have noticed that you've been more glass-half-full, FP. We're just... _adjusting _to that. Kid, what do you say - do you think that means it's a good night to teach your father another training game after we eat? I can think of at least one that we haven't introduced him to yet."

Brand raised his eyebrows at his godson, figuring the joke was edgy enough that it would reassure Jones and wipe that unsettling look off of his face. After all, things could not be too fraught if Brand was courting danger so directly.

"Only if we have safe words this time," Jones didn't miss a beat when he turned his focus to Brand, and the kid couldn't keep from smirking at the idea. He even winked at FP when his father's head snapped up.

"Very funny." FP rolled his eyes at his son and relaxed slightly - even though he watched them both with a little more alertness than usual as they snickered at his expense.

Which was probably enough flirting with disaster for one evening. Pie was on the docket for dessert, and they didn't need to make it à la mode.

**00000**

"You're both acting weird," Jones said again as they relaxed together on the couch and finished off slices of apple pie.

"Well, that's probably because I'm tired. You and Donn took it out of me today," Brand replied. He stretched, preparing to exit to his room. FP should have some time alone with Jones if he was taking off into the Southside tonight. They'd also need to touch base after the kid was asleep about precisely what the FBI wanted FP to do and say with the Serpents.

The whole thing was shaping up to be intense, and Brand might need to coach FP on how to manage the trickier parts.

Brand caught FP's eye and saw that the older man was fully aware that Brand was giving him time alone with the kid. He looked agonized over it, like a dead man walking, and Brand felt a small flash of guilt over how insistently he'd painted the picture of a fatherless Jones - alone, bereft, and in sorry shape - because there was not likely to be a huge amount of danger to FP. Not with the region crawling with cops, feds, and biker gang members who would chew off their own arms to have FP running the show in the Southside.

The bigger concern, in Brand's opinion, was FP's return to the gang, his old habits, and that biker bar.

As long as FP remembered very clearly what he'd left the Southside for, and had in mind precisely what would happen if he screwed things up, Brand didn't think he'd drink. He'd also be far less likely to be distracted by those 'outstanding promises' he'd mentioned.

The FBI did not approve of anything resembling rogue behavior when they sent someone local into a situation with marching orders. The whole scenario would be tense from the outset, and in this case there was already some pushback. There were concerns.

And so, even though Donn wasn't going to be a problem, Brand had been happy to use FP's blind fury with the man to spice up his hypothetical story a bit. Scare him straight.

But Brand's phone calls had finally been returned, confirming that Rose had sent Donn explicitly to back Brand up, since it was true - and problematic - that Supervisory Special Agent Phillips had taken a strong dislike to him. They didn't need anyone countermanding Brand's orders when fast response times could mean the difference between success and failure.

Not that Brand trusted for a moment that that was the only reason Donn had been sent.

Rose was well aware that Brand could not stand Donn, and that Brand was sure that the man had no use for Jones (no matter what he claimed to the contrary). But as SAC, Donn could be useful and he was in line - on script - according to Rose.

More importantly, he might officially be Brand's boss (and his SSA's boss) when it came to working with the FBI, but Brand was Donn's boss in all the ways that counted.

Nevertheless, it was extremely fortunate that Brand had not been the one to come through the window in Michigan when Donn was setting up to brutalize Jones. Every time FP went off about Donn, Brand could school his response and work his way through the situation in a manner that he strongly suspected would have been impossible had he been the one to witness Donn attempting to put his godson out of commission.

Even thinking about it made working with the man difficult. So Brand tried not to think about it.

He also tried not to think too hard about the fact that FP was sitting on the couch asking Jones what stories the kid knew about his mother. Apparently they were digging deep.

Jones was eagerly prompting his father and Brand heard him dash the remaining pie plates to the kitchen island - which was a good sign that he was nudging FP into their storytelling posture, which inexplicably involved both of them leaning back on the couch and closing their eyes while they talked.

Brand had a feeling that this was not going to make things easier for FP later this evening, or for Brand in the morning when Jones was high on hero worship and learned that his father was spending the day running undisclosed 'errands.'

But it would be worth it when FP came back safe and sound - and sober. Without any issues arising from a little too much longing to reconnect with his own glory days. With Jones firmly at the center of his motivation at every step along the way.

**00000**

Alice had been surprised by how much there was to explore in the Southside, and Sweet Pea kept assuring her that they had only just begun to scratch the surface of everything there was on offer. He was probably talking about hiking again, so Alice took his words with a grain of salt, but she was beginning to wonder if there was anything to the local trails.

Sweet Pea certainly seemed to think that there was.

And his tastes had not proven to be too bad so far, even if Alice did need to keep in mind that she was beyond starved for any new avenues for socializing after the months that she'd just endured. That was probably affecting her perceptions of everything in the Southside in a big way.

It only seemed to confirm her suspicion that her perceptions were being warped by the extreme lack of stimulating experiences that she'd had of late when she realized that she was actually somewhat excited to return to the Whyte Wyrm (very) late that night.

Alice had texted Hermione that she'd be out for a while, and not to wait up for her. Hermione had texted back that she should stay out as long as she liked. It was jarringly permissive compared to Alice's own mother, but okay. Alice certainly wasn't going to question it, even though she was pretty sure that Veronica did not make a habit of staying out well past Midnight, even on the weekends. Maybe Hermione was just glad that Alice was finally getting a life.

And apparently this was her, getting a life: inexplicably excited about returning to a disgusting dive bar.

Or maybe she was just feeding off of the buzzing energy that was emanating from the people around her as quite a number of Serpents streamed toward the bar along with Alice, Sweet Pea, and Toni.

It was kind of electric, actually. Sweet Pea had received a text earlier in the day that, as he'd explained it, had summoned all of the Serpents to the Wyrm - and, whatever the seedy reason they no doubt had for gathering, Alice figured it was a new experience. She was all about new experiences.

They walked inside of the Wyrm, and as they crossed the threshold the electric feeling seemed to grow exponentially. Alice had actual goosebumps when Sweet Pea steered her to a vantage point that was out of the way and better suited to his insane height than to Alice's ability to see - until he snagged her a barstool so that she could stand on its lowest rung and see as well.

Toni disappeared into the crowd with a wave, and Alice returned it happily enough. She'd turned out to be okay. Provincial, but okay.

When the energy crescendoed still further, Alice started looking around for whatever had everyone so stirred up. This was fascinating. She knew that at this point it was almost guaranteed to be a letdown, no matter what the reveal turned out to be, but she was still enjoying herself. She was invested, and she wanted the full experience.

A ripple started up in the crowded room, almost like a stadium full of fans working themselves into a lather, and Alice climbed up another rung on the barstool. Sweet Pea's hands steadied her hips when the stool rocked under the imbalanced weight. He stepped in close behind her.

"Oh my God," Sweet Pea spoke to the back Alice's head, almost as if he didn't realize that he was forming words - and he was doing so with a breathless shock and awe. "He's _back_."

Everyone was reaching - touching - and for a moment it seemed likely that some sort of rock star had entered the space.

And then Alice recognized the figure at the center of the reverent crush of bikers.

It was Jughead's dad.

**00000**

Alice got quite a bit of time to reassess FP Jones while everyone paid their respects. The biker gang seemed to be waiting for something, too; there might even be a speech at some point, though it was looking increasingly likely that the wait for that was going to be interminable.

But that really didn't bother Alice. This was a lot to take in, and she was grateful for the time to absorb what she was seeing.

FP's hair was usually disarmingly floppy and fell around his face in a manner that was cute and very casual - not unlike his son's, but a little closer kept - while the man in front of her understood product. His facial hair suddenly made a lot more sense; with his hair combed back, it drew attention to his eyes and his expression instead of merely representing an emphatically blue collar aversion to shaving.

His body language was unchanged, but looked very different in this room. It was suddenly apparent that FP was a man who was at ease with having every eye on him; his swagger, subtle enough to be invisible most of the time, was equal parts understated and confident. Far from giving him a mild-mannered look while navigating the bar, it signaled clearly that FP _owned_ this place and did not have to work - or project an image - to maintain his status.

When FP greeted people, slapping backs and grinning, there was no holding back or affecting a cool distance. There was no indication at all that he put effort into his role at the center of the ecosystem. It was just him, as natural as the fit of the leather Serpent jacket he was wearing - and had worn more than a few times, based on the way it smoothly outlined his shoulders.

FP did not need to adopt a 'look' to fit in here either, which was perhaps most shocking of all to Alice. She was literally looking at Jughead's father, with only his hair combed back and a jacket shrugged on over his typical clothing. A gang leader had been hiding in plain sight - and not really hiding at all.

Alice had just been blind to it.

It was reminiscent of Superman putting on glasses and everyone pretending that he had transformed into an average guy - only with FP, Alice could see how it had actually worked: FP _himself _was the role he played with the Serpents, and being this magnetic gang leader was what he did every day, without thinking about it. In this instance, Clark Kent _was _the superhero. No flying was required.

Gang members whose home and 'work' lives were like night and day might look unnatural in more mundane settings - might have to work at playing a role -, but someone whose superpower was a preternatural ability to master even this unruly bar could blend in anywhere. Effortlessly. Taking off the jacket and artfully disheveling his hair took away the sharpness, and the rest was just… FP.

Alice had new insight into why Brandon Davies had never had an obvious challenger in FP Jones when it came to Jughead.

She'd always assumed that FP had been forced to submit to the will of Agent Davies. Alice had imagined Davies laying down ground rules for the three of them: the undercover agent who had rescued Jughead from homelessness would have made sure that his father got it together before relinquishing custody.

Now it looked an awful lot like there might not have been a contest because FP hadn't felt the need to play games. He'd won just by showing up.

Jughead must have felt like a leaf dropped between two whirlpools when those two had decided to raise him together. He'd seemed to appreciate the way they bumped into each other while on vacation in Michigan, turbulent but controlled, but Alice knew that it had not started out that way. That much had been obvious from a distance.

In fact, it might have been downright terrifying for Jughead to have those two uber alpha males make him their ground zero. That story about a casual chokehold that had almost caused Jughead to black out might be one of the cuter, more domestic stories from their time together.

Sweet Pea's hands dropped from Alice's hips as FP neared their portion of the room. Alice realized with a start that Sweet Pea was preparing to reunite with his hero.

And she was about to come face to face with FP Jones, gang leader.

Alice found herself wishing that she'd been better about calling Jughead by his name at all times. She did not want it known in this room that this was a man whom she had antagonized in any way.

"Sweet Pea." FP should have looked small beside the teenager, but he did not; instead, Sweet Pea looked gangly, and his body language was meek and tentative as he gratefully accepted the handshake that pulled him into an enthusiastic hug. "You know that I hear everything. And everything is _good _where you're concerned."

Sweet Pea's grin was face-splitting and eager, making him look like a child. FP looked on him as if he were an immensely proud father. Alice didn't think she'd ever seen him look at Jughead with that kind of approval. This was intense.

"Alice Carter," FP's tone was wry, but he gently hugged her and Alice was both relieved and bizarrely proud that she was not being singled out for exclusion from the rounds that he was making. "Are you here to see what all the fuss is about? Don't believe anything they tell you."

"Yeah - first dial it up to twelve and then you might start to understand the half of it." An older man laughed at FP's words. "FP Jones, you shook the law off your tail, son? It's about time we had a decent mind around here again. If only you weren't so _ugly_. They couldn't do anything about that for you in prison?"

"Oh, they tried, Billy," FP hugged the man and slapped his back enthusiastically. "What do you think, would a nice scar have prettied me up? About like this, maybe?" FP slashed a hand diagonally over the right side of his face, laughing as he raised his eyebrows.

"Who was so generous as to offer you a free facelift?" The man - Billy - asked with a jovial laugh. "I'd like to shake their hands."

"Oh, well now, Billy, we need to keep you out of prison for at least a little while. I haven't had your venison stew in ages."

FP was still smiling easily, but Alice suddenly realized that they were talking about someone - or several someones - who had tried to carve up FP's face in prison - and Billy going after them to retaliate. And everyone was still laughing and slapping each other on the back.

Alice tried to keep from reacting, but she felt FP's eyes return to her face. "Sweet Pea, this young lady needs a ride home. See to it."

"Yes, sir." Sweet Pea all but saluted.

Alice was relieved when the order seemed to be for some unspecified time, and not right away. For a moment she'd thought that FP was kicking her out. This whole experience was starting to be disturbing, but Alice did not want to look away.

And then the speech part did begin.

And everything got a whole lot more disturbing.

Alice could not take her eyes off of Mr. Jones, and it felt like everyone in the room had that same reaction to him. The gang members leaned toward their leader as one.

FP seemed to work the room like a sorcerer when he spoke. Even his most subtle gestures, expressions, and words worked to shift the landscape around them all and reshape it into the image he wanted everyone to see. It probably helped that it was an image that everyone desperately wanted to see through his eyes; the Serpents were more than willing to meet FP halfway.

FP's words were pithy, and he was very direct - pointed, and sometimes viciously blunt - but he also joked with individuals throughout, referring to specific events and particular experiences with gleeful insinuation. Everyone was laughing and egging him on, and it was quickly apparent that every person in the room had been brought into an extremely personal alignment with FP - and the process of drawing in the Serpents this evening seemed to bring FP to life just as much as it affected those gathered around him.

It was clear that everyone wanted to be noticed, and FP was happy to oblige. When he wasn't referring to shared history, he was making meaningful eye contact or slyly returning a look, nodding in eager acknowledgement of shouts, and occasionally interrupting himself to respond to facial expressions that he'd noticed.

Even Alice wanted to eat out of the palm of his hand by the time FP started bringing everyone along with him from his animated description - and decrying - of the current problems in the Southside to his vision of their best solution: a militaristic unity of purpose among all Serpents - and 'every loyal Southsider,' whatever that meant - in order to defy the will of the police.

And the FBI.

FP was shouting by then, and deafening yells of support were erupting in response to his words as he whipped the room into a frenzy. FP was striding back and forth, and when he called out "The FBI want our children!" the furious roar back included at least one shout of "Bring Jughead home to the Serpents!"

Alice had long since abandoned the barstool, and was halfway behind Sweet Pea, who was bellowing right along with the loudest of the gang members, as FP Jones fomented a revolt that might bring a SWAT team - or maybe the National Guard - down on Riverdale's Southside.

And in this moment Alice was not at all sure who would win.

**00000**

Brand hadn't given a whole lot of thought to what he'd do on Sunday, but when he rolled over in the guest bed and saw that he'd overslept, he figured it was time to decide.

Jones had been promised a trip to the shooting range, so Brand would take him there; FP would probably be back later in the day, once he'd wrapped up his triumphant return to the Southside - and realized that he was still mortal and needed sleep. They could all make dinner, and if FP wasn't dead on his feet they might even train together. The kid would like that.

That was a pretty big 'if,' though. It was bound to be a sleepless few weeks for FP, and Brand did not envy him the death march he'd be facing if the momentum kept up the way Brand had already heard reported from the other contacts who were giving him intelligence from the Southside.

The FBI's advice - tutorial, really - on how FP could go about stirring up the Serpents in order to unify them against one enemy so that the factions would stop splintering wildly and unpredictably had obviously been entirely unnecessary.

By all accounts, FP was about to have them seceding from the nation if he didn't pull them back from the brink - and the man had walked into the Whyte Wyrm mere hours ago.

Well, Brand was going to look like the MVP of the agency for having recruited the world's most compelling rebel as an intelligence asset. He'd focus on that, rather than on the very real likelihood that FP was drunk on adulation.

And hopefully nothing else.

Brand pulled on a T-shirt and sighed when he heard the monster sniffing around outside of his bedroom door. In many ways Trigger was a new animal since Jones had been working with him all summer and into the fall, but he still tended to eye Brand suspiciously.

The kid was probably up already, and it occurred to Brand that he was being awfully quiet. Maybe he thought FP was still in bed, and hadn't wanted to disturb anyone's sleep.

When Brand got out to the kitchen, it looked like his theory was confirmed: Jones was sitting at the kitchen island, poring over some mail very intently.

"Want to grab some cereal and then head over to the shooting range?" Brand greeted his godson.

Jones looked up. His expression was odd.

"You okay?" Brand resisted the urge to reach across the island and feel Jones' forehead. He didn't look flushed, though he might actually be a little pale. "Maybe I should cook something. We're trying to keep weight on you-,"

"Brand, where's my dad?"

"Oh - he had some stuff he needed to do. He'll be back later today-,"

"No. He left me a note. I think he's in trouble, Brand. Maybe a lot of trouble." Jones held up the mail and frowned. "Do you think he could be in the Southside?"

It wasn't mail.

Crap.

"Uh, let me see that," Brand grabbed for the letter and even just the first couple of lines were not heartening. This was entirely unhelpful, and Brand could not figure out why FP hadn't just slid the finished letter under his door for safekeeping - let alone why he'd clearly addressed it to Jones. He must have assumed that Brand would be the first one awake.

"We-ell, I can see what you're worried about, kid. You're clearly adopted; the man you thought was your father for all of these years shares exactly none of your writing ability. The good news is that he seems pretty willing to keep you around."

"He said that I should go with you if there's danger. That we might need to disappear." Jones folded his arms, and based on his expression he was torn between major waves of fear and anger. "What's going on?" He suddenly looked even paler, as fear apparently won out over anger. "Do you think this is a _suicide note_?"

Trigger nosed up next to the kid and let out his most piercing whistle of a whine, reacting to the fact that his owner was getting worked up.

"It's not a suicide note. Bite your tongue." Brand frowned. He needed to read more of that letter.

"How can you be sure?" Jones looked only more worried. "He said all these things last night. It was really weird-,"

"As opposed to all of those times when he's not weird? Come on, Jones. And I… might have told your dad to write you a letter." Brand waved a hand at his godson in vague reassurance as he skimmed the letter. Wow, it was practical. And specific. "This is _not_ what I had in mind. It was supposed to be more of an 'if you're reading this, I'm dead' sort of letter, to go along with his will. Not… this."

"You don't think it could be a suicide note?" Jones repeated anxiously.

"No. Don't say that again." Unfortunately Brand was seeing his point about the letter; it really was reading like a goodbye.

Maybe Brand should not have wound FP up quite so effectively.

Or maybe FP _had_ thought everything through... and he was about to defect. In which case this really was a goodbye note. And he'd intentionally left it where Jones would find it.

Crap.

If that was the case, then the FBI had just unleashed the most charismatic enemy imaginable on themselves. The Serpent faction would still go down - but they'd go down swinging.

Brand looked over at Jones, who might have just been effectively orphaned again. The two of them might soon be embarking on a new adventure together.

The kid met his gaze, and Brand wanted to curse when it was obvious that Jones had caught a whole lot more than he'd intended to give away. However, it was enough to get the teen back on an even keel: the fear disappeared and the anger took a backseat to determination.

"I'll get a handgun. You can buy it for me; I've got some cash. We'll go after him together."

Brand covered his eyes with one hand and began to massage the back of his neck with the other.

**00000**

**Could you tell I was having way too much fun writing FP's return to the Serpents? Some things are just fun to write. :-D I hope you enjoyed, and ****I hope you all have a lovely week!**

**-Button**


	11. Chapter 11

**Yay chapter eleven! It's going to be hard to top FP's return to the Southside, but there's also been some anticipation for the plot moves in this chapter... so (as ever) I'm going with 'onward and upward'! :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, your review was SO reassuring. To put it briefly: yes. Everything you are seeing come together is not unintentional, and I am really excited about seeing it take shape - from Alice as liminal figure (again! I wasn't sure if I called that shot a little too clearly, from her chapter 1 conflict with FP right on through; thanks for the confirmation that it was still a surprise! :) to FP being in the middle of something that nobody can fully predict (so much potential!) to the wild cards of Brand, Jughead, and (what can be said?) basically everyone at this point. And oh, I'm so glad FP got some good 'screen time' - Alice getting POV was very intentional, and I'm really glad you liked that decision. And yeah, I think you are not the only one having a 'doubly concerned' reaction... As we pick up some of the earlier threads this chapter, I'll love hearing your thoughts! :)**

**Skyrider45, I thought of you with the Clark Kent line; I'm glad that made you smile! :) And yeah, they're all in a mess right now and I'm not sure how they resolve it since some is classified. We shall see! Also, the Rose/Donn/Brand power dynamic should sound screwy: that is a new plot point as of last chapter. Donn's been working for Rose since... sometime in the past(?). We saw Brand go onto 'payroll' in AWP. The fact that Rose doesn't play strictly according to seniority isn't too weird (considering his line of work), but it is an unstable situation. I don't think you missed anything so much as keyed into a problem that's baked into the background and maybe starting to crop up for the first time. :) Yay for Serpent time! And thank _you_ for the generous update as well! :)**

**Guest, thank you for the lovely reviews! Clark is fast becoming a favorite of mine, too, and I am so glad you like him. :) I agree with you that Alice and Toni should mesh well, and I think they're moving that direction - but I think they had to suss each other out. I'll look forward to seeing where their friendship goes now! I totally agree about Brand worrying about Fred, too; he's probably right that if he screwed up (which he does from time to time) Fred is prone to locking things down for Archie (and might do the same for Jughead?), but that would be a sad story. Probably lots of Jug trying to sneak out and Brand trying to keep Fred from having him arrested. I'm so glad you enjoyed FP's return to the Southside! That felt so good to write, and Alice is definitely our resident wild card there. And yes... The Serpents remain dangerous, and Jughead is definitely implicated in the situation now. I hope you like this chapter as well! **

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"You get your sorry carcass back here for a face-to-face," Brand demanded. FP had finally called on his burner phone. It was way past their agreed-upon time for checking in.

"Not gonna work. There's a lot of energy, and if it's not channeled-,"

"I'm your handler. You come when I say come." Brand's tone was cold. "The FBI is already worried you might desert, and I have to be able to say there's not a snowball's chance. You're making that a harder sell all the time, FP."

"You want a riot on your hands?"

"Are you threatening one?" Brand shot back. "Once again, FP, the FBI does not like this kind of talk coming from their intelligence assets. And I just spent the day convincing my godson that you had not left him a _suicide note_ and that he doesn't need a _handgun_ in this strange new world. Get back here now."

"Jughead thought I'd do that?" FP sounded disturbed. Good. "You said you'd make sure he was okay. You said you'd have it handled. I don't even have my cellphone - this was on you to manage."

"This was far beyond anything I could control. He's known something's been off for weeks. You sat him down to talk about his mother. That note was sitting on the counter when he got up, and it had his _name_ on it. He was in full-on panic mode, so I don't think he actually believes you're suicidal - or that cruel - when he's not hyperventilating, but I could see where he was coming from." Brand snorted. "Oh, and he wanted to come after you - and you should know that his first guess for where we'd find you was the Whyte Wyrm."

Brand shook his head even though they were on the phone. "You need to check in with him, and you need to tell him that letter was not a goodbye. The official story is that it goes with your will, in the event of your untimely demise. Which will be extremely soon if you are not walking into this house tomorrow at the absolute latest."

"I'll drop by." FP sounded at least a little penitent, if not particularly motivated to deal with the disaster he was creating in his wake in the Northside.

"Really? You think you can see clear to do that? How incredibly generous of you." Brand sighed heavily. "Jones is interning after school. I'll move his shift back to buy you some time, but you should be here for a late dinner and you need to plan on spending the night. You're working with Andrews tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah." FP didn't sound worried about that - or tired.

At least that was a good sign that he hadn't been drinking.

But if he was on uppers, Brand was going to wring his neck.

"Brandon," FP spoke more hesitantly now, "do you miss your work?"

"My god, FP, we are on a cellphone connection." Forget uppers; hallucinogens were officially the odds-on bet.

"I mean being _undercover_." FP's tone was abruptly full of all kinds of snark. He and Jones had some of their worst qualities in common. "You were a god to the criminals you interfaced with, right? Now you're... middle management."

"I was always middle management. That's the human condition. And remember what I just said about the kind of talk that the FBI does not want to hear?" Brand heard himself almost growling and tried to take it down a notch. "Also, I do _not_ miss the experience of losing out on months of paychecks because someone decided to see what grabbing your son might net them."

That reminder should snap FP out of this spiraling train of thought.

"Your work lets you straddle all of that. Keep a foot in." FP sounded thoughtful.

"If by 'keep a foot in' you mean explicitly betraying everyone repeatedly by turning over their plans and reporting their activities to the authorities, then sure," Brand snapped. Never mind taking it down a notch; this was insanity. "But if you mean being an active part of both worlds, you are not just on thin ice. You've fallen completely through, and I'm throwing you a line. Whatever you're thinking, it is _not_ an option. You will lose your son, and if you create much more momentum in the process it's not going to be Fred taking him."

"I'll be home tomorrow. Keep your shirt on, Brandon." FP sounded more irritated than concerned - even though Brand had broken out the custody threat. This was bad.

"You just keep in mind that, at the end of the day, the jacket comes _off_, FP," Brand countered.

When FP laughed like that was funny, Brand's frown deepened.

Brand had never thought he'd be one of the more protective asset handlers, but he'd also never imagined that he'd be in this position with the father of his godson. He was starting to realize why the agents at the field office hadn't wanted to touch this one, either.

This was a powder keg. And apparently FP Jones had a thing for playing with matches.

**00000**

On Monday morning Archie was excited about seeing how school went: the Southside High students would be joining everyone for their first day of classes in Riverdale High. Veronica and Alice had both volunteered to help coordinate students to welcome and guide the newcomers around the school; a more formal orientation had to be skipped since the timing had been so short on the decisions about Southside High.

Jughead had been judiciously omitted from the orientation pairings, once Veronica and Alice had realized that even he did not know what dynamics existed between him - or more properly, his father - and the list of disembodied names that they had been given.

Archie had been assigned to help someone named Gunnar Helgason orient to Riverdale High, though, and despite all of his father's warnings (and his experiences at Southside High as they continued moving forward with plans to rebuild) he was secretly hoping that Gunnar was a Serpent.

The Bulldogs could use some new recruits - new blood - even though that would definitely mean extra training and practices; the facilities at Southside High had not been great, so it was almost guaranteed that there would be some catching up involved for the transfer students. But any raw talent would hopefully be apparent once they started working together, and just the process of training other students would strengthen all of the Bulldogs.

The Serpents had probably recruited the best and the brightest, or so Archie figured. Any in with them could prove useful for his recruiting efforts.

The scene outside of Riverdale High when he pulled up was energizing, too. Teenagers were milling around both on and off campus, and a highly visible minority of the new students were in what looked like full-on gang uniforms, complete with leather jackets sporting Southside Serpent insignias. Archie parked his pickup truck in the school parking lot and hopped out to learn what he could about the new additions.

"Hi! Do you know a Gunnar?" Archie asked the first unfamiliar highschooler he ran into.

"Are you for real?" The girl glared.

"_Helgason_. Gunnar Helgason," Archie corrected the misapprehension swiftly.

The student walked away without another word.

Okay, that probably hadn't sounded great. But Alice was standing with the new students, and she was even talking with a gang member. Archie smiled as he approached; this guy looked like a basketball player, and as though he could probably do well on the football team as well.

"Hi Alice," Archie gave the stranger a wave as well. "I'm looking for a student named Gunnar Helgason, and I'm also recruiting for the Bulldogs if you have any interest."

"Huh."

"Be nice, Sweet Pea." Alice smirked. "That's Gunnar over there, Archie."

Archie looked over where she'd gestured; it did not look like Gunnar was a Serpent, if the leather jackets were an integral part of the uniform. Archie was disappointed for a moment - but at least he had an in with this tall Serpent, thanks to Alice. "Thanks. I'm Archie Andrews, by the way. Your name's Sweet Pea?"

"Yep."

"Let me know if you want to try out for the Bulldogs, or even just work out with us while you get settled in here. We're looking forward to working with the students from Southside High." Archie smiled cheerfully to underscore his invitation and then left Alice and Sweet Pea so that he could speak with Gunnar.

The unfamiliar student was built along the same lines as Jughead, so maybe he'd be a runner. He was also flipping and spinning a metal geometry compass in an elaborate pattern as he paced along the edge of school property. It looked really impressive as his hands moved deftly and confidently, and Archie wondered if this student was capable of a lot more. It wasn't obvious where he might fit well on a team, but his reflexes looked great.

"Hi, I'm Archie Andrews. Are you Gunnar? I think I'm showing you around today." Archie smiled encouragingly when the student nodded - and his fingers flicked even more quickly so that the pattern included several more challenging flips and spins. "That's a cool trick. Do you play any sports?" Archie took a breath and launched into his spiel: "I'm recruiting for the Bulldogs, and we're planning to make room for Southside High students to train and work out with the varsity teams. That way everyone will get a chance to settle in and decide if they'd like to formally try out."

"Is there a lot of call for this at Northside sporting events?" Gunnar raised an eyebrow, and trapped the geometry compass with his left elbow.

And... it was not a compass.

"Is that a-,"

"It's a butterfly knife. I'll leave it in my car, dude; I'm parked off campus. Calm down."

Archie's eyes widened. This was definitely exciting. And a little scary. But mostly exciting. "Could you teach me how to-,"

"Whoa, hey, Archie," Jughead approached them and slung an arm over Archie's shoulders. "Hi Gunnar."

"Jughead." Gunnar nodded and smirked. "Nice wheels."

"Thanks." Jughead stared at Gunnar intently, ignoring the obvious dig over his perfectly ordinary vehicle.

Archie looked between the two, wondering what the history was between them. He'd never heard of Gunnar before today, so there could not be a lot of backstory.

"Your dad's recruiting again. Tell him to stay away from my sister."

"Will do." Jughead shot Archie a quick warning glance, so he didn't ask what that was all about. He'd ask later, away from Gunnar. Away from any of the Southside High students, for that matter.

"Your boy wants to learn about sharp things?"

"Nope." Jughead's arm tightened around Archie's shoulders. "We're good. You need any directions to classes?"

"I'm good."

"All right, then." Jughead steered Archie away from Gunnar before he spoke again. "Easiest volunteer job ever. Stay away from him. I haven't seen him in a while, but he's got a major beef with the Serpents and that probably means you, too, because we're friends."

"Because we're _famously_ friends." Archie put that together quickly. "You think he read that roommate story that went viral?"

"There's a lot of gossip right now, too," Jughead shrugged. "Just assume that anyone from the Southside knows a lot more than they should."

"Is your dad actually-,"

"No, Archie. Obviously not." Jughead gave Archie a look. Although to be honest, things were unbelievably weird at the moment. There was the 'goodbye' letter. His dad had not come home on Sunday and he wasn't taking Jughead's calls or responding to his texts. Brand was insisting that everything was 'normal,' which only confirmed that it was _super_ weird - and that those two were both in on whatever was going on.

Jughead had not slept much the previous night.

But apparently his dad would be home for dinner tonight, if Brand was to be believed. That wasn't enough time for FP to be doing much of anything problematic, even if pigs were flying and he had gone back to the Serpents. "That's… shorthand for the Serpents. My dad's name. You know."

"Your dad… his name is shorthand for the Serpents?" Archie's brow knit. "It's your name, too, at least technically. Is that going to be a thing with the Southside High students?"

"Probably." Jughead couldn't see how it would not be.

"Fu-un," Archie drawled sarcastically. "Maybe you and I should stick close, since apparently I'm not showing Gunnar around after all."

"Thanks, Archie, but I should be fine. Unless you meant for _your_ protection."

"Obviously." Archie grinned.

Jughead grinned back, and they entered the school together.

**00000**

Jughead was not entirely surprised when Mr. Johnson stopped him in the hall before classes began to talk once again about his internship; he felt a lot more prepared for the conversation, too, since Brand had told him that this was normal.

It only took a few friendly exchanges before Mr. Johnson was walking away with a smile - and nobody was staring at Jughead like he was an underage James Bond or something.

"What was that all about?" Someone had become curious, apparently, but wasn't addressing Jughead so he didn't spare a glance as he began walking away.

"Oh, he's interning with the FBI, doing super secret stuff with his new and improved daddy." The response boomed through the hallway.

Crap. Chuck Clayton was filling in whomever had asked.

Jughead turned around, and then he realized it was even worse than that: Chuck was talking to a Serpent. It was nobody Jughead knew, but that did pretty much guarantee that, if the Serpents had not been aware of his internship before, they were now.

There wasn't much that he could do about it, though. Jughead ducked his head and hurried away to class.

**00000**

Alice had someone new to eat lunch with. It really was the simplest things that improved quality of life massively.

Jughead had waved, and Archie had shot another hopeful smile toward Sweet Pea. Betty and Veronica had two Southside girls in tow and were showing them around with all of the pep and enthusiasm that they could muster - though that actually looked a little strained, even from here. The complaining had been fierce from what Alice had witnessed so far.

Alice was glad that she'd been able to request Sweet Pea when she'd volunteered to help with the orientation initiative. Both Veronica and Betty had been intrigued and given her encouraging smiles when they saw Sweet Pea, which was also nice.

It probably hadn't hurt that Principal Weatherbee had stepped in and divested everyone of their gang-related jackets and gear by the end of first period.

Alice had also noticed that information seemed primarily to go one way: Sweet Pea knew quite a bit about Jughead, but Jughead did not know who Sweet Pea was. Archie knew that Sweet Pea was a Serpent, since he'd seen his jacket in the morning, but it did not seem like he'd mentioned anything about it - or really given it much thought, since his focus was solely on recruiting the tallest guy in school to play sports for Riverdale High. The girls both seemed to approve of Alice's friendship with Sweet Pea, which would likely not be the case if they had a clue that he was a member of a gang - Joaquin notwithstanding.

Sweet Pea's shirt collar covered his Serpent tattoo today, but Alice assumed that was not going to be the case every day. Maybe not even tomorrow. But for now it was nice to feel like everyone was encouraging her and seeing her as someone who had her own life and her own place - her own value - in the school's social hierarchy.

"Hi Alice. Sweet Pea."

Oh. There _was_ one person who knew exactly who he was, Alice realized.

Kevin Keller sat down with them at the lunch table. He'd looked haggard and distracted all morning, but when he looked at Sweet Pea his gaze lasered in and he became a man on a mission.

"What have you heard?"

Sweet Pea looked very conflicted in response to Kevin's question. His gaze skittered around the room, and Alice was certain that he was eyeing the Serpents, who had become invisible among the other Southsiders now that they were not wearing their jackets. Those who did not know them could not pick them out of the crowd.

"What have you _heard_?" Kevin repeated, his tone becoming more forceful when Sweet Pea did not answer his question.

"Kevin, there's nothing. No word." Sweet Pea dropped his eyes to his food. "We're worried too."

"You're a closed system." Kevin made it sound like something filthy.

"The cops aren't going to help. No offense." Sweet Pea still was not making eye contact.

It was obvious even from Alice's uninitiated perspective that Kevin was not merely tolerated in the Southside; he was liked. He might not be regarded as an insider, but Sweet Pea at least felt badly about shutting him out of the inner circle when it came to Joaquin and the whole situation.

"How would you know? How can you leave _any_ possibility of finding Joaquin, however remote, on the table?" Kevin's voice rose. "How do you… _justify_ that in your head?"

"Kevin." Betty was suddenly right beside him. "Come sit with us."

Kevin turned on Betty, but her expression was as firm as his was angry. Alice knew that she had earned the right to take a firm position on this, too, after everything that had happened to her involving Jughead.

"I don't know anything. I haven't heard a thing." Sweet Pea repeated the information, this time looking Kevin in the eye.

"Would you tell me if you did?" Kevin asked.

Sweet Pea's eyes did a quick circuit of the room again.

"I _said-_," Kevin leaned over the table and was suddenly so loud that he could be heard over everyone else in the lunchroom, "-if you heard anything about my missing, maybe _hurt_ or _murdered_ boyfriend, would you even _tell_ me, Sweet Pea?"

Alice's eyes widened and Betty was not the only person intervening now. Archie and Jughead were on either side of Kevin as he stood up and backed away from Alice and Sweet Pea's lunch table with a wide, frustrated sweep of his arms - all without breaking eye contact with Sweet Pea.

"Come on. _Answer_ me, Sweet Pea. Will you tell me if you hear anything?" Kevin was still projecting his voice through the room, now with a mocking jeer that did not quite hide how distraught he was.

That was when Alice abruptly realized what was playing out right in front of her. The Serpents must be stonewalling the investigation. Or something. Even though he was sympathetic, Sweet Pea was part of a united front. He was following whatever the party line was, and Kevin had figured that out.

Kevin was engineering this public confrontation to make Sweet Pea either admit what was going on - or force him to break ranks publicly, which seemed highly unlikely after what Alice had witnessed on Saturday night.

When Alice sneaked a look around the lunch room, she knew there were at least a dozen Serpents, but she recognized only four or five faces as gang members. Most people would not even recognize that many, unless they were from the Southside - or, like Kevin, dating a Serpent or Southsider.

This school might have just become a minefield.

**00000**

"Typical Serpent BS," Jughead muttered to Archie as they left the lunch room together. "Kevin's definitely right. At least that means Sheriff Keller knows it's happening, too."

Archie nodded, sobered by the stark evidence he'd just witnessed that the Serpents were a whole lot more than an edgy, or even transgressive club. They might be preventing a crime from being solved, perhaps at the expense of Joaquin's safety - or even his life.

With one last exchange of looks that communicated solidarity, Archie and Jughead split up to head to their respective classes.

And once he was alone, Jughead realized that something had changed since the morning.

The halls had become hostile.

He'd only gone a few steps when someone bumped into him, moving away swiftly when Jughead adjusted his trajectory to minimize the contact. Then someone stepped directly in front of his new path, causing him to stop so quickly that he almost collided with a broad chest - and he had to sidestep in another direction to get around that student.

At that point he had to stutter step to avoid tripping when a foot jutted in front of him.

Jughead barely got his feet under him, coming to a full stop, and he turned around to try to put faces with the hassling.

The hallway was a sea of blank expressions.

He didn't know the Serpents. Not the ones his age. And this might even be coming from anti-Serpent students who knew who his father was. The Southsiders did not quite equal the Northside students in number, but there were a lot of them.

Jughead hoped it was his paranoia flaring up again and not a real threat that had him hugging the wall for the rest of the day and tucking himself self-protectively out of the way of anyone he did not recognize.

**00000**

"There's a group of, like, eight guys that wants a tour of the athletic facilities," Veronica sighed. She was clearly over the Southside students and the drama they had brought with them to Riverdale High.

The non-gang members were the majority of the new students, but they were unhappy about the longer bus rides and resentful of the much nicer facilities even as they kicked against the restrictions that kept those facilities nice.

They had also begun complaining aggressively about being 'lumped in' with the Serpents now that the gang paraphernalia had been confiscated - and they had a point. The Riverdale High students had responded to the removal of the obvious Serpent jackets by eyeing _all _of the Southside High students as if they were gang members until proven otherwise.

That was just the start of the unending list of woes that Veronica was being subjected to from seemingly every direction. And those were only the Southside High students' complaints. Once the newcomers had become vocal, the Northside students had been eager to match their negativity and churn up some of their own as well.

"I literally offered to do that earlier," Archie objected. "I asked, like, everyone. _Personally_. What, did they want an engraved invitation?"

"It might be easiest to just-," Betty's tone and expression were apologetic when she gestured helplessly, "-give them what they want? Not give them yet another thing to complain about?"

"I'll go too," Jughead frowned. "They're just jerking us around. And seriously, don't go anywhere alone with them, man - there's nobody else down there right now. I've got a little time before my shift starts." Jughead rolled his eyes as he recalled the cryptic reasoning he'd been given for that change. "Brand's got everything 'offset' this week, for whatever reason."

"Yours is not to reason why…" Archie intoned, smiling when Jughead swatted at his arm. "Thanks. I don't know anyone from the Southside that I didn't meet today. At least you know a few people."

"Not many," Jughead said darkly. He had made it through the rest of the school day without incident, but he'd had to keep his eyes open and take steps to avoid a few aggressive configurations that had just 'happened' to form right in his path - a path which was carefully out of the way now that he'd clued in to the fact that this was systematic.

Jughead still hoped it was paranoia, but at this point he was not convinced that he was _not _a specific target; Jughead had not noticed anyone else receiving this kind of treatment in the halls from the Southsiders, though he was admittedly distracted by trying to navigate the dynamic.

Jughead had tried to memorize faces as he went, so that he could try to figure out who was safe by process of elimination - and more readily identify anyone who was looking for an opening to push him, either figuratively or literally. Jughead could not afford to have his Krav reflexes kick in while he was in a crowded hallway. Or anywhere, really.

"That's still more than me." Archie smiled with forced cheer. "Let's go make some more new friends, shall we?" They began saying goodbyes for the day with Veronica and Betty, who had to meet with Alice and Principal Weatherbee and give a report before they went home. "What a Monday, huh, Ronnie?"

"No kidding," Veronica yawned and reached for her coffee after she'd hugged Archie. "This week is going to be a disaster for me if things keep on this way."

Archie eyed her, but did not comment. Sunday had been great for him, but Veronica had been distracted nearly the entire time with work and then bowed out very quickly - to go do more work. The problems from the previous school year were clearly not gone, though Archie was determined not to renew the problems between them that had arisen when he'd become too insistent on helping… but 'not helping' was no solution.

Maybe he could ask Jughead for advice, and his dad for that matter - maybe even his mom. Actually, asking his mom was a really good idea. Archie wondered why he hadn't thought of that sooner.

Archie started down the hall with Jughead.

"That was impressive, Archie." Jughead commented. "The way you totally just let that go, I mean. She _is _super busy, too. She asked me about internship applications this week. And oh man, I officially see what you mean about the anger-," Jughead shuddered with a rueful smile "-because, let me tell you, the fact that I was just handed my internship and didn't have any advice to offer her did _not_ go over well."

Archie snorted. "Yeah, Veronica's convinced she's going to be discriminated against because her transcript makes her look 'privileged.' You should have heard my parents' response when that came up over dinner at my place. It was beyond embarrassing. Veronica hasn't been over again since."

Jughead grimaced. "You can always come have dinner together at my place. Brand and my dad wouldn't mind, and they probably wouldn't lecture her about privilege." Jughead thought about that a little more. "Maybe don't test my dad on that, actually. He's a little on edge after Clark, like, printed the internet for him."

"What?" Archie laughed. "Okay, what happened with Mr. Perfect Intern?"

They laughed and chatted as they made their way toward where Veronica had promised the Southside students would be waiting for their tour. And hey, maybe nobody would show up and they could just hang out until Jughead's shift began and Archie needed to get over to Southside High to meet his dad.

**00000**

**A big thank you for reading, and for your reviews - particularly the lovely detailed ones, but also the brief notes. I've been sick for TOO LONG and it's been such an encouragement to hear from readers while I sleep (and sleep) and start to feel better. **

**I wish you all good health and a lovely week!**

**-Button**


	12. Chapter 12

**It is a cheerful December so far, no? And it's chapter twelve. Life is good!**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you so much for the great review! I loved your characterization of Archie, and how his movement from guilt to anger to easing up on himself (and others) over the summer has left him in an oddly upbeat place that may not be entirely healthy. And yeah, getting Sweet Pea and Kevin into a room was painful. Everyone's trying so hard to be loyal and helpful, and they all care so deeply, but working together is wildly complicated. Oh goodness, the Ghoulies... I guess we'll have to see on them, since I'm including some non-gang-member Southsiders (I thought that was a missed opportunity in the show) and my first thought about the Ghoulies was 'that's a LOT of characters for anyone who isn't George R. R. Martin.' :) But that hasn't stopped me before, honestly, and now the wheels are turning... thanks for that! :-D Good instincts as always (yay!), and thank you so much for the good wishes!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

The Southside students _were_ waiting for their tour of the athletic facilities. They were standing by the equipment lockers, joking and laughing, when Jughead and Archie approached them.

"Hey, guys, we must have gotten wires crossed earlier. We'll show you around. Are you considering trying out for-," Archie broke off when two of the students stepped forward to meet him and grabbed his arms. "_Hey-_,"Archie tried to jerk free.

"What are you doing?" Jughead moved swiftly to help Archie, but he didn't put a whole lot of force behind it when he shoved one of the students who had grabbed his friend. "Come on. Let him go."

Jughead assumed that these were just bullies who had underestimated them; he probably wouldn't need to do anything more than show that he was willing to jump into the fray, and maybe that he could hold his own.

No doubt they'd run off and tell their friends that the Northsiders didn't roll over for them, and that would be that.

But, during the precious few seconds that he had to assess the situation, Jughead made a grave error: he saw eight classmates and not eight violent enemies.

By the time he'd realized that pulling his first punch had been a mistake, Jughead's skull was cracking sickeningly into the cinderblock wall behind him as two other students pinned his arms down and a bruising hand from a third student was jammed up under his chin and into his vulnerable throat.

"Jughead!" Archie had begun fighting wildly, but four teens were dragging him toward an open equipment locker without much difficulty.

Archie began yelling for help; it was obvious that they were losing the fight badly.

Jughead was slightly dazed from the blow to his head, but the instinctive panic response to his throat being grabbed helped keep him focused and fighting. He kicked hard, aiming for the knee of one of the guys holding his arms down. He was sure that he just needed to hurt someone, and that would - hopefully - be enough to scare the others into abandoning the fight.

He didn't manage to connect with his attacker's knee, though, and the three students holding him in place seemed to know just enough to keep him there.

Archie was forced into the equipment locker just outside of the men's locker room, which was already crammed full of the football gear that it typically stored. Someone had the foresight to slap a strip of duct tape over Archie's mouth before the door to the locker was slammed on him - with an obvious dent resulting.

Even though Archie's arms had not been restrained, he clearly did not have sufficient room to bring his hands up inside of the locker to remove the gag and call more effectively for help. His muffled yelps and thumping from inside of the locker scared Jughead; it was quite possible that Archie was hurt. His arm might have been fractured or broken when the door was slammed shut on him.

The lock that one of the students jammed into place to keep Archie trapped had a combination, and Jughead's first thought when he saw that was that he was going to need to get help in order to let his friend back out.

He did not recall having a second thought.

Jughead did later remember yelling for help while he was being hauled away from Archie and all the way into the men's locker room - before being held down long enough to be gagged with a workout towel.

Jughead was also clear on the fact that he managed to do some damage when his assailants let him regain his feet so that they could lash out at him. Eight attackers proved to be too many people to coordinate into a decisive advantage - but it did not take long for them to realize that trying to fight with Jughead was a bad idea, and that their first move had been their smartest.

They overpowered Jughead and held him face down on the floor a second time. In that position their numbers worked for them.

And then they began to beat him.

And beat him.

The kicks to his ribs took his breath away. The blows slamming into his legs seemed to shock pain through his entire body, and when someone stomped on his right bicep he startled violently - it was crushingly painful and alarmingly close to his face.

Jughead's reaction seemed to inspire a round of stomping, and a break from the kicking.

Jughead was crying out through his gag and trying in vain to steel himself again the pain that kept coming from all sides, the blows from so many attackers falling faster than he could track, let alone anticipate and brace against.

All the same, Jughead still had enough awareness of what was going on to cringe when a motorcycle boot wound up to kick him in the face and he was unable to move out of its path.

"Hey! That could kill him. Take it easy on the head."

Someone in the group was sane, and he was calling the shots - literally. Thank God.

Jughead had been alternating between struggling to defend himself and trying to override his instincts and wait, in an attempt to conserve his strength so that he would be able to take advantage of any more promising opportunities that arose for fighting back.

He resumed struggling when that command seemed to take some attention away from him for a moment, and he managed to break the grips of the two Southsiders holding his arms and shoulders down. It was not much to work with, but Jughead used the opening to try a desperate sweeping move - and someone went down.

Focusing on hurting whoever it was he'd dropped, and hoping to scare off the others in the process, Jughead slammed an elbow into the student he'd brought to the floor beside him - and he was suddenly yanked backward by his gag, as if it were a bridle. Whoever had grasped the towel shook him punishingly hard.

It was a brutal move, and Jughead hoped that he didn't have whiplash again. That had been awful.

But the cruel maneuver did drag him somewhat upright, and the student who had been holding down his lower torso and hips released him and moved out of the way. At least two people were still restraining his legs, and someone knew what they were doing because his sneakers had been pried off of his feet.

Jughead suddenly had a lot more ability to use momentum, though, and he had learned not to underestimate that after his experience with the drug dealers.

These teenaged attackers were about to learn that same lesson.

Jughead could not pitch his head backward while someone was jerking him around by his gag, but he generated enough force by planting his hands on the floor and then twisting his torso and hips violently that he yanked his legs free for a moment - and could scramble onto his knees.

Before the teenagers could manhandle him back down onto his stomach, Jughead reached behind his head and found the hands that were now weaving into his hair, no doubt to get painful leverage that way.

Checkmate.

Jughead's hands closed on the Southsider's fingers and he cranked the joint manipulation move that Brand had taught him for all he was worth.

Whatever the students had been afraid might happen in response to Jughead yelling for help was definitely going to happen now - in response to the screaming that followed.

Jughead didn't let go, either, even after he was sure that he'd broken multiple fingers. He didn't dare let anyone in the locker room get an easy shot at overpowering him again, even for a moment, now that he'd upped the ante. It was quite possible that they'd rethink the merits of that boot to the head.

While the rest of his assailants presumably ran away, Jughead remained kneeling and gagged so that he could keep both hands behind his head, locked into maintaining pressure and steadily manipulating the broken fingers of the Southsider behind him - who kept on screaming - so that at least this one attacker could not get away. Hopefully anyone who had ideas about intervening would think twice before doing anything that might jostle the death grip that Jughead had on the student's broken fingers.

Nobody wrestled him back down; nobody resumed kicking or hitting him.

Jughead could not be certain that there was not someone just outside of his peripheral vision, waiting for an opening, so he continued grinding the student's fingers to keep him in agony and to deter any attack. But it seemed likely to him that he was the only one left fighting in the locker room - and he was doing permanent damage to the hands of some teenager he'd never met before, whom he probably could have dropped with one good punch and no serious injury in a fair fight.

The teenager above him began begging him to stop, between his screams.

That was when tears began streaming down Jughead's face, and he might even have begun sobbing, though it could have been a panic attack that was making his breathing hitch.

Being forced into brutalizing his own classmates on school property had never been Jughead's worst nightmare. But he had a feeling that it was about to be.

**00000**

An hour or so later, Jughead wasn't sure that the tears were done for good, but at least they'd stopped. His breathing was still rebelling, but he thought that he'd made a little progress on that. Maybe.

Archie was sitting quietly alongside Mr. Andrews in the school office on the bench across from Jughead, and had been for about twenty minutes. At this point they were just watching Jughead try to pull himself together.

Archie had attempted to talk to him after finishing giving his report to the police out in the hallway and then rejoining his friend, but Jughead had shaken his head. He needed to focus on his breathing and not think about what had just happened. What he'd done.

Observing that, Mr. Andrews had tried to offer nonverbal support by putting an arm lightly around Jughead's battered shoulders - but he'd quickly moved back to the other bench to give him space when Jughead had startled away from the contact and covered his face with shaking hands.

Jughead had not moved from that posture, so the bruises that had been forming on his face were no longer visible. His hands and arms were darkening with obvious handprints, along with angrier splotches where he'd been kicked or stomped on, though, so the visual was not a whole lot less disturbing.

Sheriff Keller was sitting outside of the room with Principal Weatherbee, waiting patiently for FP to arrive before he talked more with Jughead; they'd established that he did not know the identity of the attackers, and any additional information could wait for a guardian to be present.

Brand burst into the room and his arms closed around Jughead. This time Jughead was able to lean in and return the embrace; he knew that he wouldn't hurt Brand.

"Hey, killer, I'm here. I came as soon as I could." Brand ran a hand lightly through his godson's hair, and Jughead recognized that he was feeling for injury. Brand seemed to be talking to himself when he continued. "Why on earth are you still sitting here?"

"I told them I wanted to wait for Dad."

Brand frowned. "Ah. Of course you did. Your prognosis can't be too bad if you're up to pulling power plays like that on your father, kid. But you legally can't refuse treatment; you're underage." Brand seemed to go back to talking to himself: "Why is this school staffed by idiots?"

Brand's hand paused on the bump from where Jughead had been thrown against the wall, and his other arm tightened slightly around Jughead's shoulders. All frustration was gone from his tone when he spoke again. "But you're going to be okay. We're going to get you some X-rays - and painkillers - and call your dad again. Are you okay to walk? Any muscle spasms or dizziness? I can carry you to the car."

Jughead shook his head. "I can walk. I'm _fine_, Brand."

Brand sighed deeply and did not loosen his hold on Jughead as he stood from where he'd knelt to hug his godson; he brought them both to their feet, and restrained Jughead firmly when the teen tried to pull away. "Humor me, Jones. I know I'm not the person you hoped would show up, but this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better, especially if we don't get narcotics in you soon."

Archie and Mr. Andrews stood as well, and Brand gave them a nod of thanks for waiting with Jughead before he turned to leave.

"We can go with you to the hospital," Mr. Andrews offered.

"Thanks, but I think Jones is gonna want a little space when all of this catches up with him and he really starts feeling it. FP will get there soon. I'll call you once we know the extent of the damage." Brand smiled wanly and nodded to Archie. "I appreciate it."

It was eerily reminiscent of walking through Jameson's place when Brand began ushering Jughead out of Riverdale High past the curious staff that were still in the building.

"You are not a spectator sport," Brand murmured as he cupped one hand over Jughead's face like blinders, to shield the bruising from view, and tucked the teen's upper body against his chest. "Let's get you out of here and then we'll regroup. I think my sunglasses are in your car, and there'll be something long-sleeved in the back seat if I know you."

Jughead nodded and finally relaxed into Brand's hold as he wrapped an arm around his godfather. "Thanks."

"You can follow us to the hospital," Brand directed Tom Keller as they walked through the hall. The sheriff had stood up as if to begin a conversation when he saw them approaching. "He's not okay; his pain tolerance is off the charts, so I get that it's confusing, but there should have been an ambulance. You can't just eyeball bruising like this and make your best guess. I'd appreciate it if you hold off on talking to him, too. I'm on all of the school's paperwork for him, but you'll need FP before he's got a true guardian in the room."

Sheriff Keller nodded and fell into step with their slow progress toward the exit. "That's fine. I'll follow you, and we can give FP time to get there. We've got Archie's statement, and we've got the one guy in custody; he's a Serpent. He won't give up any other names, but he's been talking. It sounds like Archie was the intended target until they unexpectedly got a shot at one they liked better. The beating was originally meant to send a message about the construction on the Southside, and then it turned into lashing out at the FBI to send a message about 'loyalty.' Which doesn't entirely make sense." Tom watched Brand closely but did not see any reaction to that information.

"The kid we've got is hurt badly," Keller frowned when Jughead made a small noise in response to that information, "but he's proud of what they did today. I have to admit that I'm hoping you'll take a professional interest in this, Brandon, because boasting is not a good sign - _or _specifically claiming the incident for a cause."

Brand nodded soberly. He knew exactly what that indicated, and in this instance he also knew why.

"So we need to pick up the others before they try something like this again. So far the Serpents we've spoken to say that this was not only unsanctioned behavior, but it's 'punishable,' whatever that means. I don't trust that means they'll actually crack down, if the jokes about 'young snakes learning how to control their venom' are any indication," Sheriff Keller's tone darkened with obvious distaste. "But Jughead's already said that he didn't recognize anyone, so until we've got a lineup or some yearbook photos, that's where we are. Veronica Lodge might have names, so a deputy's following up with her right now. She set up the 'tour' that lured the boys down there."

All of that meant that Sheriff Keller didn't really need to be the one to take his statement. Jughead appreciated that he was obviously taking on a job that was beneath him, just so that Jughead could give his report to someone he knew.

"Wait - hold on - my shift, Brand-," Jughead suddenly realized that he was probably very late. The FBI wouldn't like that.

"You can make it up tomorrow, kid," Brand's voice was soothing and he gently rubbed Jughead's back with the hand that was not cupped protectively around Jughead's face. "Or never. It's not a big deal. You defended yourself, and that's our focus today. You did good; you kept yourself in one piece. I'm here now, so you can stand down. I've got things handled."

Jughead looked up at Brand, confused by his godfather's emphatic insistence that Jughead calm down. "I know."

"I'm very glad to hear that. Can you relax a little and take a few deep breaths so that I can _see_ that you know?" Brand's soothing tone held a hint of a smile then. "You're about to crack my ribs with that death grip, kid, which can't feel good with all the bruising I can see on your arms. And I can hear your lungs complaining. Match my breathing; you know the drill."

Jughead tried, and the instinctive panic when he slowed his breathing brought tears back into his eyes. He was wrung out - overwrought -, and Jughead allowed another few quick breaths in so that he could force the tears back. That felt important right now.

**00000**

FP did not make it to the hospital where they spent hours confirming that Jones was not bleeding internally, though two ribs were fractured and several other bones were bruised; it was after nine pm when he entered the house.

Brand had worked himself into a fury - even though he could see right away from FP's stricken expression that he'd only just heard the news, and likely come directly home. That was a heartening sign, in any event.

Not that it made any of this okay.

Brand was sitting on the couch with Jones curled up against his chest and fast asleep now that painkillers had overwhelmed his exhausted system. The kid had been very quiet during most of their time at the hospital, but it had been telling when he'd stopped insisting that he was fine, and stopped suggesting that Brand didn't need to be right next to him between scans and photos being taken of his horrifically beaten body.

Brand had tried to joke with the techs and dispel the aura of almost gleeful speculation that had seemed to follow them through the hospital. The eager gossip about the Serpents being the attackers and FP being conspicuously absent raised Brand's hackles, and he had worked tirelessly to keep any whisper of that from reaching the kid.

Jones had finally engaged with some of the kidding after Brand pushed one of the physicians to get him a muscle relaxer, so that they would not risk a repeat of the week in Toronto when he'd trained too hard for too long and woken up unable to get out of bed.

So things were a little easier by the time Brand had pulled the kid's car around to the hospital's entrance, scooped Jones out of the wheelchair that he'd finally coaxed him into, and settled him into the passenger seat while an orderly cheered on the show of strength and Jones protested with a reluctant smile that he really was fine to walk.

But then they'd arrived home, and any pretense of anything about the situation being 'fine' had evaporated when they'd walked in the front door and found the house empty, aside from a dog that was very anxious to make a trip to the back yard.

Jones lowered himself onto the couch with the air of someone who couldn't fathom making it as far as his room, and Brand had joined him there as soon as Trigger was taken care of - and once he'd ensured that FP had one more voicemail waiting for him on his burner phone.

Now Trigger was completely pinning Brand down on the couch, since the monster had decided that the best approach to snuggling up to the kid was by taking over Brand's lap and resting his head on Jones' lap from that position.

And FP was finally home.

Brand was overwhelmed by an urge to keep FP from disturbing the quiet equilibrium they'd finally achieved. It was probably unfair - and maybe even vindictive -, but Brand could see a few ways to justify it: he wanted Jones to have as much of a break as possible from the pain and also from the ruminations in his head that seemed to be going nowhere fast.

"Shh. Don't wake him up. He's okay, FP." Brand shook his head at his own words. "Well, no, actually - he's a mess, and he's got cracked ribs and nasty bruising all over him. But he'll live; he was lucky. They weren't trying to kill him. At least one of them wasn't, and that - thankfully - carried the day."

Once they'd finally given up on FP arriving at the hospital, they had worked through as full a statement as Sheriff Keller was going to get. The kid had wanted to get it over and done with.

FP's face fell even further as he came closer and saw how completely covered with bruises Jones was. It wasn't clear how long the Southsiders had spent working Jones over, since neither Andrews nor the kid had managed to assemble anything resembling a coherent timeline, but Brand was pretty sure that it had been longer than he wanted to consider. FP sat down on the couch so that the kid was between him and Brand, and he reached to shift him onto his own chest.

"No. Leave him alone, FP. You've done enough." Brand kept his tone low so that he wouldn't wake Jones up, but he made his words vicious. "I don't know where you've been, but I know _exactly_ what you've been doing - _and_ what you haven't. Those kids at school came after him because they found out about his internship. He never saw it coming. You put him in their sights and you pulled the trigger."

The dog alerted when he heard his name. Brand patted him until his head returned to Jones' lap.

"Did you even _think_ about making Jones an explicit exception? I understand not protecting me - that would look iffy at best - but did you think of your son for one moment when you sicced a violent gang on all of the people he works with?"

"I want out." FP's voice cracked, even though he was also speaking quietly so as not to wake his son. "I'm done, Brandon. What do I have to sign?"

Aaaand he was two for two on overdoing it with FP, apparently. Brand really needed to get a better sense of the man's buttons, because he was just stomping all over them this week.

"You can't get out just like that, FP," Brand sighed. "I mean, you can, but let's be real. You're fairly committed at this point. It would do more harm than good for both you and the kid, and that's leaving aside the mess you'd leave for the FBI. We'd have the war you created _and_ the splinter groups we were trying to avoid."

Brand figured they could get through all that, but there would almost certainly be loss of life if things got much more chaotic than they'd been when FP had been brought in.

"At this point you can really only help Jones by sticking it out. I want names, and I think you can get them. And you can start coming home every night while you do that." Brand gave FP a withering look. "I couldn't even _begin_ to cover for you, and lord knows I tried. Did you make a habit of disappearing on him when he was younger? Because we took more than a few steps backward on his abandonment issues when you didn't come back on Sunday. I'm almost positive he thinks you've been drinking - and that might be his best case scenario."

FP did smell like booze, Brand suddenly realized. "Wait - you've been _drinking_?"

"No. I need to shower. Mustang spilled this on me, no doubt _because_ I've stopped drinking." FP's expression was the right amount of tortured that Brand could almost believe the classic cover-up story of alcoholics everywhere. "Could you run the laundry for me?"

Okay. That made it a little more believable. But this was still not great.

"Yeah, I can do the laundry. Get out of those clothes and shower. I'll hand over the kid after that; he'll be relieved to see you - and you had better believe that you just dodged a bullet by not having him catch you smelling like that."

Brand took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not sure I want him in school tomorrow, so we need to make some decisions. See what Jones wants. He's… he broke a kid's fingers and then he held on - crushed them - to stop a beating that has all the hallmarks of bullies who have no idea how easy it is to kill someone. He had to be violent enough to scare off the _seven_ other kids who jumped him. They'd forced Jones somewhere out of the way, so it took a while before help finally came. He's destroyed."

Brand felt a little badly when FP's expression twisted - but this time it was no more than the truth. "School hasn't been an easy place for him, but it's always been safe. Right up until today. He hadn't really hurt anyone before, either. Not like this; not another kid. We're extremely lucky that his instincts took over, because right now he's questioning everything. He wonders if they were about to let him go, and if he could have gotten away with just submitting and not hurting anyone. My only question is whether they'd have let him live if he hadn't fought his way out of there." Brand's expression was stony and his arm tightened slightly around Jones.

FP nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something - but perhaps could not in this moment.

"Shower. Change. Come back," Brand directed.

FP stood up from the couch. He reached like he was going to touch Jones, but then let his hand fall. Good; there was no telling what was bruised and what wasn't.

Brand nodded his approval. "We'll go from there."

**00000**

**Well, I am sure you could tell by the cheery content and tone of this chapter that I got good health news, and am (slowly but surely) on the mend. And in a great mood. :) Happy weekend! As always, I love your notes and am ever inspired to write when I hear that folks are reading. I'll enjoy any and all reviews you have time to leave me as I work up lucky chapter thirteen! :)**

**-Button**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen! And the good mood persists! :-D (good moods really ought to be permanent. Just a suggestion... ;)**

**Thanks so much for the great review, Living Lucid Dream! Ye-eah, FP might be able to aim the Serpents all in one direction, but the minute the younger ones in particular are out of direct line of sight, all bets are off for how that plays out. At least for now, since FP (clearly) hasn't fully restored order. I think 'yikes' is a great word for the chaos FP has stirred up and only begun to direct. And it _was_ so painful having him arrive on the scene at home so late, but I don't think he was twiddling his thumbs during those 'lost' hours; it's such a mess. I'm glad you approve of Brand being so furious. This is a painful reversal of roles for him to try and manage, and I think it's the first time he's felt he could not predict and rely on FP, at least in some measure. Those two remain complicated as things change! I hope you like this chapter as well. :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Come over," Archie begged. "You shouldn't be alone." Everyone else in Veronica's home had already gone to bed, even though it was only ten pm.

"Archie, I can't. It's late, and I have to-," Veronica broke off. "I have a lot I still need to do." She was crying.

"All of that can wait. _You _shouldn't have to wait," Archie tried not to sound like he was demanding - or commanding her. "You're more important than any homework. This is… real. And it's _not_ your fault. I want to make sure you know that. I need to make sure you're okay, Ronnie."

Veronica was crying harder.

"We're both fine. Really. Jughead scared them and they'll probably never do anything illegal ever again."

"That's not true. Sheriff Keller thinks they're going to try again as soon as they get another opportunity." Veronica's breath seemed to scrape against her throat when she inhaled. "And they wanted to hurt _you_. Jughead just happened to be there, and that's the only reason-,"

"Jug was there because we weren't dumb. We knew not to go alone."

"And you ended up locked in an equipment locker for _ages_." Veronica had been the best source of information on the timeline, since Archie and Jughead had expressed very different impressions of how much time everything had taken (Archie's timeline was much longer than Jughead's for everything that had occurred before the screaming began), and she was still shocked by how much time had passed before anyone had found Jughead and Archie, even with a Serpent - named Patrick, apparently, though he went by Patch - screaming in agony.

Archie had spent that whole time thinking that he was hearing Jughead being tortured.

He had also thought that he might be able to break the door to the equipment locker, even though he'd been wedged in painfully tightly. Archie had worked the duct tape off of his mouth and yelled for help until Mr. Svenson had come, but during that time he'd bruised his left shoulder badly by trying to force his way out and get to his best friend. He'd never known that bruising could get that dark - that black.

The equipment lockers were supposed to be locked whenever they weren't in use; the school had already Emailed the student body, saying that they would 'respond' to the incident by ensuring that the equipment lockers were properly secured from now on.

Archie had laughed - somehow that was the most hilarious Email he could imagine the school sending after what had happened -, but his dad had been infuriated by it.

Everyone seemed to want to blame someone, and Archie wished they'd just blame the Southsiders who had actually jumped him and Jughead.

"Mr. Svenson has a lot of school to take care of," Archie defended the janitor. "He had everything he needed, too - he had bolt cutters and, uh, band-aids-," Archie had been warned not to tell anyone how hurt Jughead had been, unless or until that became public knowledge, "-and he called the police so fast. Mr. Svenson was really on top of things. He ran right in to help Jug, too, once I was out of the locker. Even though it turned out that the Serpent was the one who needed protection."

It had looked like Jughead was being executed, actually. Both Archie and Mr. Svenson had stopped dead when they'd entered the locker room, not sure what to do when they saw the Serpent standing over a kneeling, gagged, crying Jughead who had his hands behind his own head. But then they'd realized who was screaming in pain - and saw why.

"Somebody's never going to Juilliard."

"That is not funny." Veronica seemed to have stopped crying long enough to snap at Archie's dark joke.

"Did it make you smile?" Archie asked hopefully.

"No." Veronica's voice was shaky again. "I can't believe I didn't get a single name. I set you up. You both could have died."

"Nobody was trying to kill anyone." Archie had been sure of that from the outset. He was virtually certain that murderers didn't shut people into lockers. That thought had echoed in his mind quite a bit while he'd listened to the screaming coming from the locker room. He'd been right, too. "They'll get names. I'll recognize people; Jug will too. We got one guy, and he'll talk eventually."

"He's bragging." Veronica sounded agonized. "He's proud that they hurt you, and he wants another try."

"Well, he won't get one." Archie was firm. "Evasive maneuvers from now on, okay? You need to be protected, too. They used you to get to us, and that won't be forgotten. Not by me; not by anyone."

"That… is ridiculous logic." Veronica giggled for a moment and hiccuped. That made her giggle a little more.

"Seriously. They lied to you. Manipulated you. They sacrileged your _lists_ and your _system_, and for that they must be punished." Archie could hear that Veronica was amused by this tack, and he pushed it further to see what he might be able to manage. "Just wait. I'm going to strategize with whoever's making decisions at Jug's house, and we'll have a plan in place before tomorrow."

"What do you mean, 'whoever's making decisions'?" Veronica echoed.

"Oh, yeah - Brand had to pick Jughead up from school. FP was MIA, so that was... OMG."

Veronica snorted at the objectively terrible joke. Archie smiled.

"My dad's pretty torqued about that, since Jughead was… well, you'd have thought he lost the fight. He was messed up. So anyway, I think there's going to be a conversation. They just cannot get their employer-worker relationship to work smoothly." Archie sighed. "It's bad for morale."

"You really like working with your dad, don't you?" Veronica sounded curious - and surprised.

"Yeah." Archie left it at that. He hadn't made any long-term plans, and he actually wasn't sure how it would play out for Veronica once he started thinking that far ahead. That seemed like a conversation that they could delay for a while, and he was happy to simply see how things went for the time being.

"That's… neat." Veronica didn't sound judgmental. She maybe even sounded jealous. "Working with your dad - and my mom - must be fun."

"I almost never see your mom, but yeah - working with my dad is pretty great." Archie agreed. It sounded like Veronica was starting to calm down. "Are you really looking at internships? Because I do have an in at Andrews Construction and could probably get you an interview if you would ever want to work with your mother."

"Let me think about it." Veronica sniffled. "But thanks. You've seemed really happy since you started working there."

"Any time; I've got your back." Archie spoke firmly. Maybe this was the approach he'd needed to take from the outset: if he couldn't beat back the overwhelming schedule, maybe he just needed to embrace it. "And I am happy, yeah. I kind of took a page out of Jughead's book over the summer." Archie suddenly wondered if the logic he'd come up with might also work for Veronica.

"You saw him after debriefing, when he was letting life happen to him, and just… wandering off to look for Trigger or whatever." Archie shrugged. "A lot of that wasn't cool. But my dad pointed out that it also wasn't all bad. A lot of the time he got people to help him, or just let problems sort of fix themselves and didn't make them worse. So now Jug's being a lot more responsible, and I'm trying not to control things so much."

Archie paused to consider his words. "It helped that it finally - I don't know - _clicked _for me that Jughead's not dead, and Brand's not a murderer; we all survived Michigan together; even today we made it out in one piece." Archie laughed self-consciously. "I was really angry for a long time about things that didn't actually happen - or things that happened, maybe, but that turned out okay in the end. So I'm trying to focus on the fact that things turned out well. Really well."

"You are. You're _happy_," Veronica repeated, and her tone was as if she were saying that Archie had magical powers or a winning lottery ticket. "I want that too. Jughead seems like he's always in a good mood these days with Trigger and Brand and his crazy schedule. Betty's basically been on cloud nine since she helped save Jughead and they finally got back together in the hospital. But I feel like... I was the one holding things together for so long - I know, total ego trip, right? -, but then I missed the memo when everyone else moved on."

"You did hold us together, Ronnie. You were amazing. And maybe now it's my turn to return the favor." Archie's voice was confident. "Just tell me what I can do to help. I'm here."

**00000**

"I'm sorry." FP had been murmuring the words over and over, but it wasn't helping.

Jughead had woken up after FP returned from the shower and sat back down on the couch. Brandon had smoothly shifted his son over to him, and that had done it. FP had felt even worse when Jughead had gone from being disoriented and a little panicked to throwing his arms gratefully around his father's neck.

"Thank you," Jughead had said into his shoulder. His eyes were slightly glassy from sleep and painkillers, and his tone had been nothing short of awed, as if FP's presence was a miracle - and he'd never expected to see his father again. "Thank you for coming home, Dad."

When Brandon gave him a scathing look, FP had felt only agreement with the man's position on the subject. He'd screwed up badly.

FP gently returned Jughead's hug, quickly easing his arms down from his son's ribcage to his waist when Jug hissed in pain in response to his first attempt.

They'd sat like that for a few minutes, breathing each other in and unable to begin a real conversation.

"Did you drink?" Jughead eventually asked his burning question. He eased back from the embrace so that he was leaning against FP's side, while FP tucked an arm carefully around him and rested his forehead on the top of his son's head - one of the few uninjured portions of his body.

Brandon had begun making pancakes and omelettes for them all. And glaring over at FP from time to time.

"No."

"Thank you, Dad," Jughead choked up and found himself fighting tears of relief. "Are you… back? For good?" He seemed to realize that he would not receive the full story, and was only asking for the most salient information.

"I won't be gone overnight again. Not like that; not without a plan, and not without calling to check in." FP hoped that his wording would not raise more questions - or scare Jughead again - and he quickly elaborated. "I'm not leaving you, Jug. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I was fine here with Brand. And I had things handled by the time he got to school." Jughead turned his face toward his father's shoulder again and missed Brand's scandalized expression and emphatic shake of his head. "You're here. You didn't drink. We're both okay."

Jughead was silent for a few moments and then he spoke tentatively. "Your, uh, errands are done, and I have a pretty good excuse for staying home from school, so I can get my work done early. Want to watch a movie when you get home tomorrow?"

In all of those moments when FP had marveled at - and been incensed by - Jughead's willing forgiveness of the unforgivable in Brandon, it had not fully registered with him how incredibly vital that trait was to his own relationship with his boy.

Now it was painful as well as unmistakable: FP was getting off far too easily. In this moment he felt a lot more guilt than gratitude over that fact.

"Yeah, Jug. Let's watch a movie tomorrow." FP squeezed his eyes shut against tears and attempted a joke. "A musical?"

"Sure." Jughead nodded agreeably, though it was obvious when his pounding headache made him freeze mid-motion. "You can even sing if you want."

"Nah. I'm kidding. We'll watch something that you like a little better." FP suddenly wondered if Jughead was proposing this idea in order to try to lock him into a plan - keep his dad home - and attempt to interest FP in spending time with him. "I just... want to do something with you."

"Same," Jughead said. "Brand likes to make fun of the Bourne movies. Want to have a marathon?"

This time Brand looked a little more appeased when he looked over at FP. Ah; he was probably feeling like he'd done the hard work and FP was getting all of the attention. That FP understood, and could probably take steps to help with.

"Yeah. Let's plan on that. The wolf pack can have a movie marathon."

"Sounds good." Jughead relaxed a little more against FP's ribcage and then lit up when Brand brought him a plate that held two enormous chocolate chip pancakes. "Wow. You never add chocolate chips; thanks, Brand. Dad likes his with chopped apple and cinnamon."

Brand raised his eyebrows at FP, who quickly shook his head. "I'm fine. Whatever you're making is great, Brandon. Thanks for cooking."

"I can add some apple and cinnamon." Brand's tone was mild, but his eyes were cold as he stared down the older man. "The kid wants you to have the kind of pancakes you like, FP. It's no big deal."

FP broke eye contact, turning back to focus on Jughead instead, and Brand returned to the kitchen with an air of satisfaction over the exchange.

"Has anyone walked Trig?" Jughead asked around a mouthful of pancake and chocolate before addressing the dog directly as his muzzle inched toward the plate from his position on the couch. "No, Trigger. You'd get sick, buddy; Brand even used the dark chocolate chips. But if you're good, maybe Brand will put a plain one in your bowl."

"I'll take him out again before we go to bed, kid," Brand offered. "He's fine for now. And you can stop sending orders to the kitchen."

"All right, fine. It was worth a shot." Jughead smirked over at his godfather, who was already pouring a small, plain pancake for the dog. "Was Clark mad that I stuck him with all the work?"

"Clark-," Brand suddenly realized that he wasn't sure what Clark thought. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Or you will, if you want to try to make up that shift and you're moving okay on your feet. I don't want you home alone if you're not in school."

"I'm not going to school." Jughead was matter of fact and his tone left no room for disagreement. "I'll do a long shift at the agency instead. I can just sit if I'm sore, and these painkillers are great."

Brand nodded. "Only the best for you after a day like today. But you know... you could always go to work with your dad."

"I'm working at Southside High tomorrow. We're getting ready to demo the place." FP gave them both an apologetic look. "I'll find a way to have you on site if you want to come with me, Jug, but that's what we're doing."

"Yeah, no," Jughead shook his head a little too emphatically, stopping to wince at his own movement before continuing. "Too much work. I want my cushy desk job."

"Then that's our plan. I'll call out if you wake up in too much pain, and we can sack out here instead. Study for the SATs or something." Brand did not comment further about the wisdom of avoiding the Southside for the time being. He smirked as another thought occurred to him. "Maybe I'll look into the paperwork for homeschooling you."

Brand laughed at Jughead's expression before a buzzing sound on the counter caught his attention. "Hey, Andrews is calling your phone again. Want me to take it?"

He'd already called Betty and taken on some of that difficult conversation on Jones' behalf; the kid had taken the phone and given reassurances, but having Brand sketch out the basics of what had happened had seemed to help.

"Yeah. Let him know I'm not going to be in school tomorrow." Jughead's eyes dropped. He didn't want to talk to Archie just yet. He looked back up when he had an idea. "Oh, and tell him about the homeschooling paperwork. Tell him we could do it together, and see if his head explodes."

Brand raised an eyebrow as he answered the cellphone. "Andrews, hey - Jones is sky high on some _very _nice drugs, so I'm screening his calls; you're welcome. What can I do for you?"

Jughead laughed and snuggled a little closer to his father as he continued to make short work of the pancakes.

FP curled a little closer around him in response. He didn't apologize again, but he found himself making a mental list of the most likely Serpents to have been involved in beating his son.

He would undo what he'd done, and Brandon was right: this work would leave only scorched earth wherever FP interacted with his former gang. He'd see to it personally.

**00000**

There was a knock on the Joneses' door late that night, after they'd all finally gone to bed. FP was still wide awake, and when he got up to answer the door he found himself shushing Brandon and Trig when they met him in the hall.

"I've got this. Go back to sleep and keep it down so Jughead doesn't wake up."

Neither obeyed, and both were right behind FP when he answered the door. It was pouring rain again, and underneath a heavy-duty raincoat was Fred Andrews.

"Hi. Sorry it's so late; I wanted to make sure Jughead was in bed before I dropped by. We need to talk, FP."

"Anything I can help with?" Brandon offered as he stepped back and cleared the way for Fred to enter the house.

"I spoke with Special Agent Banner earlier this evening." Fred eyed both men. "I think I got the picture. Thanks for calling from the hospital, Brand; I really appreciate it. But I only need to talk to FP about this."

"Okay. I'll be in bed; feel free to wake me up if you change your mind." Brandon turned to go back up the stairs to the guest bedroom, but then he hesitated. "And, uh, you can take it easy on him, Andrews. It's been a long day for everyone, and seeing the state Jones is in was probably punishment enough."

Fred suddenly looked very worried. "Did he... stop talking? Are things back the way they were in the spring?" He turned to FP. "Maybe you should take a few days off to be with him."

"He's talking; he wants to go to work with me tomorrow," Brand supplied when FP hesitated and looked over toward Jughead's bedroom. "I forget that these two lived with you through all of that."

"Yeah." FP frowned. "If he wakes up in too much pain I might take you up on that, Fred. Only for tomorrow, though."

"Sure." Fred nodded. "Just let me know what you need."

Brand nodded his approval of that plan and then resumed heading to bed with a brief wave.

FP and Fred sat down at the kitchen table, across from each other.

"So." FP shrugged. He figured he wasn't in too much trouble if Fred knew about the situation from Banner, but Brandon had clued him in that Fred was upset over FP's absence at school earlier that afternoon - and that Fred had later asked point blank over the phone whether FP had shown up at the hospital.

Apparently Fred had had a few things to say when Brandon had confessed that FP was still missing at that point. Which FP more than understood.

"Why did you take the job?" Fred asked. He was studying FP carefully, and suddenly it seemed like he might be in some trouble after all.

"Which job?" FP figured it was likely that he meant the FBI work, but it could be that Fred was _really _angry and asking why FP had bothered coming back to work at Andrews Construction at all - why he'd tried to straighten out his life, just to throw it away - what had possessed him to do all of the hard work in therapy only to pull the rug out from under Jughead in such a horrifyingly dramatic fashion.

It was entirely possible that was the conversation that they were about to have. And if they did, it would hold quite a number of ghostly echoes from past conversations.

"The FBI work, FP. What else?" Fred sighed heavily. "Are you all right? You look…"

Fred was merciful and did not complete his sentence.

"Yeah. I know." FP rubbed his hands over his eyes. "I'm a train wreck over Jughead, and I haven't gotten a whole lot of sleep since Friday night." FP was suddenly not sure that he'd gotten much sleep on Friday night either, but he figured adding that would sound petty or as if he was looking for sympathy. Which he was not. "I took the job because it's my mess, Fred."

Fred did not look overly surprised to hear that reasoning, though he did frown when he heard it put into words. "You do realize that by taking the job you made it Jughead's mess. Brandon's mess. Archie's mess."

Archie. FP ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. It was already Davies' mess, but yeah - I'm the one who brought it all here to the Northside and to our boys. That's my fault."

FP sighed before he continued. "Look, Fred, I thought I could do some good. Undo some of the trouble I helped create - and then turned loose - in the Southside. The money's not for nothing either; I can admit that. In case that's where you're going with this."

"It's not." Fred's tone suggested that he assumed it was a pittance, and FP was never going to disabuse him of that notion. "I just wanted to hear your reasoning and make sure I understand before we talk about your work at Andrews Construction. And before we talk about Archie."

"Uh-huh." FP figured he might as well wait for Fred to tip his hand before he said anything else.

"You're needed at Southside High. The FBI wants you there, and I do understand that they're trying to make Riverdale safer, whether or not I think that your role in their work is wise." Fred seemed to feel that conceding even that much was big of him. "I want Archie working there too, for a variety of reasons. However, I do not want you two working together, for the duration." Fred didn't meet FP's eyes, but he had definitely anticipated some of his friend's objections.

"Don't worry; I'm not bringing Jughead into any of this. He's taken the brunt of quite enough that wasn't ultimately his fault. But Archie got caught up in everything today because some Serpents went after your son over his internship."

FP's eyes narrowed. "Now wait just a second-,"

"Oh, I know Keller has his theories," Fred put a hand up to stop FP. "The narrative works a little more nicely if everyone can say that Archie was the intended target, that Jughead unexpectedly tagged along to help with the tour, and the Serpents changed their plan at the last moment. But that is not how these things typically work, FP. I'm not saying that there wouldn't have been an incident if it had just been Archie going to give the tour-,"

FP saw clearly written in Fred's expression that he did in fact want to say exactly that, but he let the lie pass without comment.

"-but it might not have been… it might not have played out..."

Once again, Fred mercifully did not finish his sentence. It had been made clear to everyone that Jughead was lucky to have made it out of that locker room alive, and FP did not need to hear one more person say that out loud. Not tonight.

"So. You want me to avoid Archie on the job while we're working on Southside High. In case this all... spills over on him. The same way that it spilled over onto-,"

FP choked on Jughead's name, and was suddenly confronted full force with the reason why Fred had not completed his own sentence. His eyes burned and it felt as though his throat had closed off.

FP covered his face with his hands and leaned forward to rest heavily on his elbows, and words suddenly began spilling out.

"Fred… Fred, I nearly killed him. He was at the hospital for hours, waiting for me to show up. And now the only thing he wants is to sit with me, and to have my undivided attention for a few measly minutes. Watch a movie together." FP inhaled raggedly. "I did this to him, and it's never once occurred to him to be angry with me. He's just so _grateful _that I bothered to show up at all. I've done such a number on him. All these years. He's willing to settle for so little from me, and I... I can't even manage that much."

"FP," Fred's tone was suddenly soothing and regretful, and he rested a firm hand on FP's shoulder as tears sprang into his own eyes, "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry about what happened to Jughead. And to you. It's okay if you want to break down with me. You're allowed, and you know that I'd never throw it back in your face. You know that."

That was true. Fred had been incredibly supportive while Jughead had been missing, and FP had broken down then. A lot more than once.

"And Jughead is going to be fine," Fred continued. "He loves you, and he's a very forgiving person; all of that is a good thing. Focus on that part. And everything I came here to say tonight... I'm only doing what I know you'll be doing as well: protecting my son just in case you are a target, so that he doesn't get caught up as collateral a second time."

FP kept his face covered, but his breathing was starting to come a little more easily.

"In fact, on any other work sites I hope that you _will _work with Archie. You've been good for him, FP. You've been doing a lot of good for the crews in general. I haven't been entirely comfortable acknowledging how much you've accomplished," Fred took a deep breath, "because it's hard for me to see you doing so well at the parts of the business that I'm not so good at. But I've been impressed. And I've been grateful."

"I really wish you would have told me this when I could've enjoyed hearing it," FP gritted out.

"Yeah. Me too." Fred squeezed FP's shoulder again. "We haven't had a lot of time together socially, though, since the summer ended. Let's change that, huh? I'd like to see more of Jughead. Spend some more time with you both. Maybe have you over, come over here, and just keep in better touch outside of work. Archie likes working with you, but I think he also misses some of what you two had together back when Jughead was missing. You got pretty close as I recall."

"Yeah. I guess we did." FP shook his head as he recalled Archie stowing away with him and turning up unexpectedly in Montreal. "That would be nice. I know Jughead misses you too. We all got too busy." FP finally looked up. "And you can show me how you grill that chicken you make."

"And maybe you can fill me in on the gossip from the crews." Fred smiled. "I've felt a little out of the loop."

"Only because you are." FP's answering smile was weak but sincere. "Thanks for coming by, Fred. I almost quit earlier tonight. When I saw Jug."

"Really? Don't quit now." Fred was surprised by his own strong reaction to that information. "I mean, of course you can if you think that you should. But all of this has come across the train tracks into the Northside now. I don't think that genie's going back into the bottle. We're all going to have to do our part to combat everything that we've been ignoring while it festered in the Southside."

FP nodded soberly. "That's more or less what Brandon said."

"How's that going, anyway? Having him around again? I worry about you two and your echo chamber of paranoia."

"He's ready to kill me right now, but that's no more than I deserve. Otherwise, I'm a little uncomfortable with how good it's been." FP smirked. "He cooks, he cleans, he's keeping track of things at the RA - resident agency - with Jughead, he helps with homework and with Trig, and he steps in whenever I screw up. I'm basically being made redundant, and he's only been here for a few days."

"Nah. You're co-parenting." Fred smiled, amused by his mental picture of Brandon doing all of those things. "And he's domesticating. Is Jug enjoying having you both around?"

"We've mostly been tag-teaming Jughead." FP frowned. "Maybe we should do more with all three of us."

"I bet Jughead would like that. He doesn't want Brand to replace you," Fred said. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah." FP really did. "And it's probably a little late now to change my mind about being a parent."

"That is for sure." Fred smiled. "So, what gossip have I missed from the crews?"

FP settled back in his chair. "You do know that we have to work tomorrow."

"Just a teaser, then." Fred motioned for FP to spill. "What are they saying about Southside High?"

"Ohhh, well." FP laughed. "Let me fill you in."

**00000**

When Brand rolled over, wondering what had awakened him later that night, he figured both FP and Fred were going to be sorry in the morning. They were hushing each other's laughter, and it was already a full two hours later than Brand had expected them to stay up talking.

Which was kind of nice, actually. If anything was going to ground FP in the Northside and bring a semblance of normalcy back to the household, his friendship with Fred Andrews was a pretty good bet.

Brand smiled to himself when they erupted into laughter and then shushes again as he tried to go back to sleep. Hopefully they'd get a quieter few days - maybe even weeks - that allowed everyone to ease back into a normal pattern.

As normal as they got, anyway.

Brand slipped a hand over to his nightstand just to make sure that it was only laughter that had woken him, and not a second call from Rose. Word had traveled awfully quickly today, and it had sounded like Donn had thrown FP under the bus when he'd given Rose an update and report.

On the one hand, that was a good sign that Donn was not in town to jockey for Brand's 'golden boy' position with Rose. Donn had apparently shifted any blame for the kid's injuries firmly off of Brand, and Rose had been all sympathy during their brief conversation.

On the other hand, any mention of FP was a warning shot right across the bow. Brand could not have Rose scrutinizing FP, or asking questions about what FP did or did not know about the arrangements regarding Jones, Brand himself, and the criminal's vast network.

Because Rose did not like asking questions.

That stage would be very brief before FP was deemed either a liability or a potential asset. And there was no way Brand could maintain the current peace with Rose if the man started taking aim at Jones' family, either to harm them or to attempt leveraging them onto payroll. That would signal the end of their agreement, as far as he was concerned.

And what _that_ would mean for all involved? God only knew.

**00000**

**Yay Fred! I've missed him and can't wait to see more of him. :) As always, thank you for reading and for your reviews. They always inspire - and apparently there's a lot of inspiration to be found in December. I'm loving it, and I hope you are having a good start to the month as well!**

**-Button**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter fourteen on the fourteenth! Some days are just that good. :) (and yay - that good mood persists!)**

**Thank you for the lovely review, Living Lucid Dream - I really enjoyed hearing your thoughts on the last, less-action-packed chapter. Veronica and Archie are definitely turning good corners as a couple, I agree, and I'm excited to see more. It's also been too easy for FP to just say Jug was messed up and ignoring flaws (_and_ disasters _and_ abuse), but as Jug acknowledges the realities of what's been done to him, he's turned the corner to forgiving and not denying that anything was wrong. Which, as you point out, is only good if it is not premature... I think FP and Brand are both worried about that, in different ways. And yeah, Fred is the best dad and his word is law when it comes to parenting. :-D And Fred is right; FP and Brand feed off of each other's energy very weirdly. And now Brand is having to figure that out in a whole new context as Donn starts nudging things with Rose - and as he tries to avoid the ugly outcomes I think you are quite right to predict!**

**Thank you for the great reviews, too, Guest! You're all caught up, in time for a new one. :) FP is definitely missing being in control of the situation, I think, and knowing how to act and what to do (and probably also just being so very beloved and respected). I'm so glad you enjoyed the Southside's collision with Riverdale High; I know you were looking forward to that in particular! Jug definitely is more upset about hurting someone than being hurt, I agree; and yes, Brand has been very steady and hasn't been cut much slack. I think FP's going to be more on the ball now, though. We shall see! Rose and Donn are definitely brewing in the background, too. I'll be interested in seeing where that goes...**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"It's not Halloween yet, intern," Agent Williams spoke when she walked past the cubicle that Jughead was sharing with Clark.

Clark's eyes widened. He shot her a horrified look and made a slashing gesture across his throat.

"What, is Davies around?" Williams had apparently decided that Brand was a problem, and Monday had not gone entirely smoothly between them. "Because this kid having a guardian angel at the agency will only get him so far."

Jughead looked up then, and that was enough to make it apparent that the bruising was real.

"Uh-," Williams seemed to choke on her own words for a moment. "What in the world happened to you?"

"That's why he wasn't here yesterday - and he's here now. At ten am on a school day." Clark motioned around them to indicate the obvious: that this was not Jughead's usual shift. "Leave it alone. It's under investigation and he doesn't want to talk about it."

Jughead ducked his head and focused on the computer screen again. Clark had been protective of him since he'd arrived that morning, looking - and feeling - like a zombie, and with very little explanation that he'd wanted to offer anyone.

Sheriff Keller still did not know who the rest of the attackers had been, but he was gathering photos to help them identify suspects. Archie was likewise out of school, pending 'a meaningful response from the school,' as Mr. Andrews had put it. Archie was at work with his dad for the day. The Andrews men had been invited to join the movie night with Jughead, FP, and Brand after work, and they would surely talk more then, but everything about the attack at school felt like it was still actively unfolding and developing.

The ground was still shifting.

After Williams left, Clark muttered to himself about there being no stupid questions - only stupid people. He turned to Jughead after a few moments of brooding silence. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, and I know you said that the police are already involved. But... this didn't happen because I talked to your father about vaccinating, did it?"

Jughead did a double-take. "_No_, Clark. My dad didn't do this to me." Jughead snorted as he thought about that idea. "For one thing, he doesn't have that kind of time on his hands."

Clark's eyebrows shot up.

"It was _eight guys_, Clark. That's why I look like an extra from a haunted house. My dad would never hurt me - and I don't think any one person could have done this to me without, like, ketamine and an hour or two to invest."

"You ticked off eight guys at once?" Clark frowned at that - and at Jughead's bizarre comment about being drugged and beaten. "Did this have anything to do with your friend Kevin and his missing boyfriend?"

"No." Even as he spoke, Jughead realized that he actually wasn't sure. The whole 'strike back at the FBI' explanation was admittedly confusing. "I don't think so."

Brand came over then, and he slid a large plate of croissants onto the desk the interns were sharing. "Compliments of Agent Quinn; she's working offsite today, but she dropped these off when she heard that you came in injured."

"Wow. That was really nice of her," Jughead responded with a grin. "Bakery, huh?"

"She's a working professional and you didn't exactly give her a heads up that you were going to get jumped this week. They're good, though, and they're still warm." Brand smiled as the two interns eagerly reached for the croissants, but then he frowned. "Did Williams say anything to you?"

"Nope." Jughead willed Clark to finally have a poker face.

"Clark?"

"She asked if he knew when Halloween was, sir." Apparently Clark was not going to lie for him, 'wingmen for life' or not.

Jughead took a bite of his croissant and then looked up cautiously, waiting for Brand's reaction.

He was eyeing Jughead critically, but also with a small smile. Jughead realized with a jolt that he was eating a croissant without worrying about where it had come from or who had had access to it; he must really be distracted by the painkillers. Or maybe he was starting to get back to normal. That would be nice.

"You _will _save money on a costume if you haven't healed up by then, Jones."

Jughead's eyebrows lowered into a scowl. "I'm sure that will be a relief to my father, sir."

Clark shot him a look in response to him mentioning FP. Great.

"Not that he's invested in saving money because of my being injured. Sir."

Brand looked confused and disturbed by that comment. "Uh-huh. You taken any painkillers recently?"

"No. I'm clean, sir. Relatively, anyway."

They had made the decision to forego painkillers after his morning dose for as long as Jughead felt reasonably ahead of the pain, but he had them in his pocket. He'd been toughing it out so far, and decided to take something over lunch in the hope that any mental haze would begin to clear before he was back on paperwork for the afternoon. At least he and Clark were working together, so nothing would get messed up if he did get loopy.

Clark's leg twitched in response to the obvious criticism from Brand, and Jughead was _very _relieved when Clark caught himself before pulling his usual move of kicking his fellow intern in the leg. That would have really hurt.

And Brand's eyes were suddenly wide. He must have caught that, too.

They really needed to fess up to Clark. But now things were messy with Agent Donn, the beating was making it awkward, and-

"You've got a handle on things, Clark?" Oh. It looked like Brand didn't care whether they explained to Clark or not. He could just order them both to do whatever he wanted, anyway.

"Yes, sir. I'll make sure everything is accurate, sir."

"Make sure Jones takes something if he needs it."

"Yes, sir."

Brand left.

"He's so personable." Clark sighed. "He takes such an active interest in everyone. You have no idea how rare that is in a boss, let alone someone with his kind of talent and ability. And these croissants are awesome; Agent Quinn rocks. We are the luckiest interns ever, Jones."

"Yep." Jughead tried not to sound sarcastic. He'd talk to Brand tonight, because they needed to tell Clark, probably together, and do it soon. This was so awkward.

**00000**

Alice was sitting with Sweet Pea while they ate lunch, but everything that had been nice about that arrangement the day before had abruptly turned dark and unsettling.

Veronica and Betty were eating lunch somewhere else. Kevin was probably with them, wherever they'd gone. Jughead and Archie were not in school at all.

The Serpents had uncovered their tattoos for lunch period, as they did whenever they had an opportunity, even though Principal Weatherbee had requested that they be covered during school hours.

There was loud gloating that Jughead had gotten some sort of comeuppance - and that Archie was next.

Alice wished that she were still confused about what they were talking about, but she'd been regaled in exquisite detail that made it clear that some of the Serpents in this lunch room were the culprits - though nobody was saying who - right down to imitating the way that Archie had cried out in pain when they'd slammed the locker closed on him, and claiming that Jughead had cried when he pulled the 'cowardly' move of using an illegal - highly dangerous - martial maneuver to end his 'punishment' early.

Speculation abounded regarding whether that needed to be revisited, or if Jughead had learned enough of a 'lesson' about 'turning on his own' and aligning himself with the FBI.

There was no mention of FP, but Alice wasn't stupid. Jughead had been attacked because his own father had basically called in a strike on him. It almost made Alice's parents look sane - loving - in comparison.

Sweet Pea was visibly uncomfortable and tried to quash the boasting. He also tried to explain to Alice that there was a sharp division between the older Serpents and the bragging subset of Serpent highschoolers, and that the only question the vast majority of the gang was debating was whether attacking Jughead had been an act of misguided and impetuous loyalty - or one of outright treason. Sweet Pea insisted that the teenagers were bragging now, in school, because they were so nervous about what repercussions they'd brought down upon themselves by attacking Jughead.

FP leaving the Southside immediately once he'd heard the news, not to mention refusing to respond to any of the Serpents since the previous evening, had likely nailed the coffin shut for them: the teens stood to lose their tattoos and jackets. Or so Sweet Pea claimed.

Alice thought that was a profound misreading of everything that had happened on Saturday night.

From where Alice stood, it was obvious that this was exactly what FP had expected - courted - with his inflammatory words. He must be as cold-blooded as his gang symbol suggested; after all, someone had literally shouted Jughead's name during the rally. FP had not _forgotten _that his son was interning with the FBI. And of _course _he was distancing himself from the Serpents for the moment; anything else would look ridiculously suspicious. No. This was calculated.

It made Alice wonder if Agent Davies was aware of all this. He was the only one who might be able to protect Jughead if it was true that his own father had turned on him and set the Serpents gunning for him.

Google did not disappoint: Alice got an address for the resident agency and braced herself for the unhappy prospect of holding a conversation with Agent Davies. He made no secret of the fact that he disliked her, and Alice found that she understood that. Some of the time she wasn't so sure about herself either.

**00000**

"Archie's going over tonight. You talked to Jughead?" Veronica wrapped her arms around herself. She, Betty, and Kevin had gotten permission to eat in a classroom as long as they were meticulous about cleaning up after themselves.

"He was on painkillers, so… kind of," Betty gave a half smile. "Brand explained what happened, and then Jughead explained that he was okay and had won a betting pool on how many broken bones he had. Apparently Brand started the betting with the techs, and Jughead bet that he had no breaks - but maybe a couple of fractures. He says we're all going out to Pop's with the eighty bucks he made."

"Big spender." Kevin smiled weakly. "Do you think Brandon will take time off from work now? Since Jughead's out of school and everything?"

Betty shook her head. "They're both at work right now; Brand's still looking for Joaquin, Kev. And Jughead's doing pretty well, I guess. Even his dad went to work today."

"Okay. Good." Kevin frowned at his own words. "Oh my God. I'm a horrible person."

"No, you aren't," Veronica said firmly. "You're just worried. _I'm_ the one who-,"

"V, you didn't set them up," Betty headed her off. "And Archie has been texting me every hour to remind me to remind you, so I know that you're getting texts too. He's sure that Jughead is all right, and that the Serpents are being watched closely enough that nothing else will happen."

"Archie is _also _convinced that any minute now Jughead is going to realize that he did something 'awesome' and be totally fine." Veronica appreciated - and envied - Archie's upbeat attitude, but she was deeply skeptical of that particular assessment. "I think he's being a lot more optimistic than he has any right to be."

"How's Patch doing?" Kevin knew the Serpent vaguely. There was no love lost, especially not under the current circumstances, but there had never been bad blood between them before this incident.

"No idea." Betty shrugged. "It sounded bad, but it was just his hands. His fingers."

"As opposed to Jughead's whole body. And Archie's shoulder." Veronica nodded. "He got what he deserved."

Kevin looked a little ill over the whole thing, but did not comment.

"We're having a sleepover tonight at the Pembrooke. Do you want to come, Kevin?" Betty asked. "Archie and Jughead are having a movie marathon at the Joneses' place, and that inspired us. We're going to get Veronica's internship applications done."

"Wow. Fun." Kevin made a face. "I might give that a pass. You make it sound so tempting, though."

"We'll do other things too," Betty amended. "I just don't want to overpromise. It is a school night."

"For us, anyway," Veronica added. "I guess if being attacked gets you out of school for a few days, you might as well enjoy the perks. Maybe they are doing okay - they're going to watch a bunch of the Bourne series, which seems like a terrible choice if they were really upset."

"I guess so." Betty gave her a small smile. "And they're all planning to be at the speech tomorrow at Southside High, and hopefully the demolition on Thursday, too."

"They got all of that scheduled?" Kevin asked with more interest. "My dad said I could go, since he'll be there along with, like, everyone we know. He hasn't wanted me in the Southside since... everything."

"Kevin," Betty eyed him, "why don't you come with us? We'll all go, and we can investigate Joaquin's disappearance together. I don't want you to feel like you have to go into the Southside and try to look for him alone."

"Obviously not, Betty," Kevin responded easily. Perhaps a little too easily.

"_Please_, Kev," Betty persisted. "Just… think of how mad you'd be if Joaquin put himself in harm's way. You need to stay safe or you can't help him. We'll help you search, but please don't go alone. We'll be more successful if we work as a group, anyway."

"That's not usually how things work there, Betty," Kevin said soberly. "But I appreciate the offer. I'm not planning to sneak off. I just want to see who shows up, and maybe ask around a little."

"Still," Veronica offered, "we'll go with you."

"We'll see." Kevin shrugged. "I'll have to make a read of whether that's likely to help or hurt."

"Of course." Betty was a little more satisfied that Kevin was not planning anything dangerous. "We're here to help, Kevin. Whatever you need."

"Thanks." Kevin sighed. "I appreciate it. And you know what, I might try to come for the sleepover after all. Could we bake something? I owe Jughead a batch of sympathy cookies."

"Really? Sure," Veronica agreed quickly. "That's... random."

"They were really good." Kevin gave them a small smile. "It was nice of him."

"He's trying to gain back some weight, too," Betty nodded. "That's a great idea - if he'll eat them. I guess we can find out, and it will be a nice thing to do for him either way."

**00000**

Alice did not notice Sweet Pea following her out of Riverdale High until he cleared his throat, just as she was approaching her car.

Alice jumped.

"Hey, uh, I wanted to let you know that… I had nothing to do with what happened yesterday." Sweet Pea was staring at his shoes. "If I'd had any idea, I would have told them not to jump Jughead. Or anyone."

"Oh, but you couldn't say that in school, right? Where you might be overheard? And would you have actually tried to stop them if they refused to listen? Put your own skin on the line?" Alice was starting to learn the rules, and she had a feeling she wouldn't like the answer to these questions.

"I don't know," Sweet Pea's eyes were still on his shoes. "I hope I would have, but… this is dangerous, Alice. I think you should stay away from it. Maybe sit somewhere else at lunch for a little while, until things blow over."

"Really?" Alice was simultaneously incensed by his nerve - and his lack of nerve. "Do you _really_, Sweet Pea? Well, that's convenient. Because I'm going to the FBI right now to tell them what I know. So _thank you_ for saving me any hesitation at all over the all-important decision of where I should sit for lunch tomorrow. But I'd already made that choice."

"You're doing what?" Sweet Pea paled. "No - Alice - if anyone sees you... that's the worst thing that you could do right now. The older Serpents are out of their minds about Jughead being hurt when we just got FP back, but they're, uh, _inspired _too. Nobody else is going to get away with helping the FBI at this point. Not now that the highschoolers drew first blood. They're probably watching the FBI offices and everything."

"Oh, well, if they're calling it 'first blood,' that changes everything." Alice rolled her eyes. "Are you going to help, or are you going to walk away?" Alice had lost patience with Sweet Pea's tough protector act - and its obvious limitations. He hesitated, his eyes dropping to his shoes, and she scoffed. "Go on; you don't need to stick your neck out, but that's what I do. Maybe I'll write an article about it, too. How would that be?"

"That would be suicide," Sweet Pea was not looking at his shoes any longer. He took a step toward Alice. "And then I'd have to stay away… and never get to know you. Alice, I wanted time to get to know you."

Alice's breath caught. But this had to be a ploy. "Classy, Sweet Pea. That is so utterly… _classy_." Alice's tone dripped with disdain. "Go try your lines on someone who doesn't mind having a complete follower claim to be an admirer. I cannot believe that you would say something like that to get what you want."

"I'm not saying it to-,"

"Oh, my mistake. Are you coming along, then? Because I'm going, so the only question at this point is what kind of a man you are. You already know my best guess." Alice's lip curled. She turned and got into her car.

And Sweet Pea was suddenly jogging to her passenger side door.

"FP didn't send the Serpents after Jughead. There's no way. I'm loyal to him - and I'm loyal to the people I care about." Sweet Pea was looking at his shoes again.

"That's the best you can do?" Alice was not fully appeased, though she was surprised that Sweet Pea had done even this much.

"I guess it is." Sweet Pea sounded displeased with himself.

He might be right: this was the best that he could do right now.

Alice figured she'd take it. At the very least, it would lend credibility to her story. And she _really _needed Agent Davies to take her seriously.

**00000**

Jughead was finishing up for the day, though he figured Brand would be a little while longer since almost everyone else had left early in preparation for the long day they'd have tomorrow. Clark was getting ready to leave as well.

"Want me to walk you to your car?" Clark gave Jughead a supportive smile. "If I were you, I wouldn't go anywhere alone, ever. Not until they caught the guys or I'd healed up, anyway."

"I wasn't actually alone when I got jumped." Jughead shrugged. "I'll get someone to walk me out in a few minutes, Clark, but thanks."

"Wait, someone else got jumped too? Was it someone you know?" Clark was confused. "I thought all of this-," Clark motioned to Jughead's battered body "-was eight against one."

"I was with my best friend. They locked him in an equipment locker and then they beat the crap out of me."

"Wow." Clark shook his head in disbelief. "It really was targeted, then."

"Kind of. Maybe." Jughead shrugged. "I'm not sure what it was about, and it seemed like they were after Archie but changed their minds when they saw that I was with him."

"That's intense." Clark frowned.

"Yep." Jughead wasn't sure he had anything to add to that.

"I'm definitely walking you to your car."

"Thanks; I will too." Brand was walking over to their shared cubicle.

"Special Agent Davies." Clark sat up straighter.

Brand smiled tightly. "Let's get out of here. Almost everyone else is gone already, and with good reason. We'll have a job and a half when it comes to the speech tomorrow, so we should all get some rest."

"Yes, sir." Clark had been thrilled to learn that the FBI would have a robust presence at the speech at Southside High, in connection with an ongoing case that he and Jughead had not been read into. They'd both speculated that it might be connected to Joaquin's disappearance, but they had not been able to figure out more than that - including why the speech was an important event to attend.

Jughead was excited, though. They would not be acting like secret service, or bodyguards to the mayor or anything, and to be honest the interns were basically just getting a field _trip_, and not engaging in actual field _work_, but it was still neat. It felt like doing something real.

They gathered their belongings and headed out of the resident agency toward the parking lot. Jughead wondered if Brand was finally going to confess to Clark that he and Jughead knew each other - lived together, kind of - once they were outside of the resident agency. It was going to be obvious that something was weird when they got into the same car.

But all thoughts of that fled when Jughead saw Alice standing in the parking lot, next to a huge guy he recognized from school - but had not realized until this moment sported a Serpents tattoo.

"Get Jones into your car, Clark, and lock the doors." Brand did not hesitate. "That's a member of the gang that attacked him and issued threats against the FBI. Jones, don't take another painkiller. If you need to run or fight, we'll want you alert."

Jughead nodded while Clark motioned him toward an exceptionally bright green Prius. "Wow, Clark. Does it glow in the dark?"

"Shut up and get in. Take the back seat; I've got stuff everywhere in the front. You brought a _gang _down on the FBI, and Special Agent Davies is about to have a showdown in the parking lot. We are not missing this, Jones." Clark's eyes were wide with excitement.

Jughead got into the back seat and Clark had to lock the doors twice when Jughead popped his door open a second time. "Hey - don't open that door again."

"Only the guy is in a gang. The girl is Alice. She's a friend," Jughead corrected Clark, ignoring his admonishment about the car door. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm pretty sure nobody's been 'brought down on the FBI,' Clark."

"I cannot believe that Davies just gave you fighting advice. That was so cool." Clark grinned, but then his smile faltered. "Do you think we're going to need to fight?"

"We are in a locked car." Jughead rolled his eyes at the thought of anything Brand had said being termed 'fighting advice.' "You need to calm down, Clark. Brand knows what he's doing. We're safe."

"Right up until Special Agent Davies hears you call him 'Brand.' My God, Jones, learn some self-preservation. It's a way of life."

Jughead sighed. They watched Brand talk to Alice for a couple of minutes.

And then another car pulled into the parking lot.

**00000**

"Alice Carter." Brand smirked.

"Agent Davies." Alice had fought with Sweet Pea; she'd gotten here; she'd done the hard part already in some ways, and she felt bold. "I came here to let you know that Jughead is in danger."

"Are you a buck short?" Brand snorted darkly. "Because you are _definitely _a day late, Carter."

"FP is trying to hurt him. He told the Serpents to come after him." Alice folded her arms and tried to make her tone firm and insistent. "I saw him do it."

"He didn't so much-," The tall gang member shut up when Alice turned her glare on him.

"He held some kind of a rally against the cops and the FBI at the Whyte Wyrm on Saturday night - or early Sunday morning, I guess - and someone was yelling about Jughead. He didn't care, and I think he knew exactly what he was doing. I don't think Jughead's safe with FP."

Brand wanted to laugh and he wanted to rage.

This was not new information, and FP was already feeling eviscerated by his oversight and its terrible fallout. The fact that someone had been specifically yelling about the kid and _still _FP had never thought to mention him being an exception to the 'go after the FBI' edict was mind-boggling - but it was still old news.

The fact of the matter was that this was FP's legend, though, and Brand needed to react appropriately.

"Thank you for telling me, Alice. I'll look into it. You might reconsider the hours - and the company - you're keeping." Brand shot the gang member a pointed look. Bizarrely, he looked more scared than Alice, despite having a couple of inches on Brand.

"You can't let Jughead go home. Not if FP's there. It might not be safe."

"Well, I can't kidnap him, either," Brand snapped.

Alice thought that over. "Can you take him into protective custody?"

The tall gang member was looking at her like she was crazy.

Brand could relate.

"I'm staying with them, Alice. I'll find out what's going on, and I'll make sure Jones stays safe."

"Please do," Alice said primly. She glanced over to where Jones was sitting in the car with Clark. "He looks like he could use a little more safety."

Well, that confirmed it: Brand still did not like Alice Carter.

A car pulled into the parking lot.

"Oh God, it's the Serpents." The tall gang member ducked and looked panicked, as if he were not a member of the gang and the safest person in the lot.

"Alice, let's go," Brand made a speedy decision. "Green car - we're getting you out of here."

"We can't leave Sweet Pea."

"You have a _pet _with you?" Brand was lost. "Why are you still talking? Take it with you. _Move_."

"I'm Sweet Pea." The gang member slid into the back seat of Clark's car right behind Alice, joining Jones there.

Oh. All right, then.

"Get them out of here, Clark. Go around the block and wait for me there. If anything happens that makes you feel unsafe, just leave. Call the police then, but not before."

"Yes, _sir_." Clark's eyes were huge.

Jones opened his car door. Brand's hand stopped it from swinging all the way open. "Oh, hell no. You go. I'll be right behind you."

"Have you lost your ever-loving mind, Jones?" Clark motioned to Brand. "The child safety lock is right there."

Brand liked the way he thought. He flipped the switch and closed the door on his godson - who began yanking on the door handle from the inside as if he was convinced that he would suffocate if he couldn't get out of the vehicle right away. Alice was trying to say something to him, but it didn't look like Jones could even hear her, let alone start to calm down.

Brand tapped the rear window forcefully and Clark rolled it down; the kid's breathing was already shot, and Brand winced. "Keep the window open for him, Clark, but do not let him out of this car. You're fine, Jones. I'm right behind you. Now go. Get to safety and stay there."

Clark pulled out of the lot, and Brand turned back to where five Serpents had emerged from the car.

These were not highschoolers.

At least he didn't see any weapons. Yet.

"Hiya, fellas. I've got one ground rule, so listen up." Brand strode toward the Serpents, who moved into a threatening constellation in response to his aggressive approach. "If you make me take out my service weapon, I'm shooting to kill. That paperwork is no joke, and I like to earn my punishments. You still want to do this?"

Brand's words were irritated, but his grin felt good. As long as he could avoid the worst of the paperwork, this might even be a good time.

**00000**

**Aaaaand that's a cliffhanger. :-D Happy mid-December! Life is in the meat grinder (what is going on, life? Did I look bored or something?), and it was super nice to sit down and find this fic exactly as I'd left it. And I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, thank you so much for all reviews. Your notes are much appreciated and make it even more fun to write. I hope you have a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	15. Chapter 15

**Ah, cliffhangers... but here is chapter fifteen! :)**

**Thank you for the wonderful review, Living Lucid Dream! I'm so glad that Clark remains a fun character (he's got a place in my heart, for sure), and I think they'll have to come clean to him before too long. It's starting to get obvious that the situation is weird. We shall see! I am also glad you're finding Alice and Sweet Pea interesting together. I think your analysis is excellent, and I'm really curious to see how it plays out when everything is put under increased pressure... and the speech-related events begin this very chapter, so I will love hearing your thoughts! :)**

**Guest, thank you for the lovely review as well! Clark will hopefully understand, I agree; he's a good friend and I think he and Jug do well together. I'm so glad you continue to like Alice and you like her dynamic with Sweet Pea! I loved your observation that Alice and Brand do not get along in part because they are alike. That was Jug's observation about Alice and FP, but I think you're right about Brand as well; Alice is uniquely polarizing. :-D And the cliffhanger is being resolved! I hope you like this chapter. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Brand let one guy connect with him and land the first blow for the benefit of the security cameras.

Then he let 'er rip.

There were only five attackers, which seemed very unfair. Brand would have loved to take on the same odds that Jones had only a day previously - and tear them limb from limb. He wouldn't have minded trashing someone's fingers, too, given the chance, but he had to keep himself clear of the gang members between landing crippling blows of his own.

Because these were not teenagers, and they were not here to fracture Brand's ribs.

They might (foolishly) want to abduct him as leverage against the agency - or they might intend to leave a body behind, as a message. The Southside had gone nuts under FP's rabble-rousing influence.

Regardless, Brand had a movie night to get to. This was ending here, on his terms.

Brand slammed an elbow into one man from an intentionally awkward angle, and when his fist followed - hopefully rupturing something painful, if not vital, in the man's abdomen - to deter that attacker from coming back for more too quickly, he was left well-positioned when a second and then a third Serpent closed on him. They were dropped very effectively and at least one made a satisfying sound when his head hit the pavement. They did not get back up right away.

If Jones had been here and in fighting shape, they'd have been done.

But it was kind of nice that Jones wasn't here; Brand was savoring this.

He could take the time to put one guy into a more satisfyingly painful hold and rip his knee powerfully while twisting his right arm in an unnatural direction, since the only remaining attacker could do very little other than put himself into range to be next - and when that final Serpent jumped Brand from behind, it was even simpler to let his momentum do most of the work.

Brand trashed the man's nose for fun (though he winced in disgust when the warm spray of blood caught the side of his face), and he briefly considered destroying one or both of his hands just for symmetry and solidarity with the kid. The surveillance cameras gave him pause, though, and he settled for an unnecessarily violent jerk to the man's left arm and shoulder that tore something quite badly.

Then he let them run away.

**00000**

"Let's get you back to your cars." Brand had rounded the corner at a jog and not been surprised to see Clark's vehicle parked precisely where he'd been told to go. He was also not surprised to see that Jones had forced his way out of the vehicle and was leaning against the car door, breathing hard. "They're gone. Sweetie might need to answer some questions, but I don't know that he was actually recognized."

"Sweet Pea."

Brand blinked. "I really wouldn't correct people on that."

"Special Agent Davies, I can give you all a ride back to the RA's parking lot. Sorry about the mess." Clark was sweeping papers off of the passenger seat.

"I... broke a sweat. I can walk." Brand cracked a small smile. "Give Jones and the other two a lift. We'll call it good. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

"_That's_ not Shakespeare."

"Jones," Clark's tone was sharp in response to the kid's reflexive response. "Are you okay? Do you need another pain pill?"

"Do not encourage him to overdose." Brand frowned. They probably needed to have a conversation with Clark. He was starting to get weird about Jones' apparent unprofessionalism when it came to his godfather. "That's from the Bible, Jones. How are you feeling?"

"I can walk."

Brand shook his head reflexively, but then thought better of it. "You know what? Sure. Let's keep you ambulatory. It's good for the ribs. Go home, Clark. We'll talk tomorrow. Nice work."

Clark looked very dissatisfied, but he was still unwilling to disagree with Brand.

"Yes, sir."

Clark drove away slowly while the others walked back to the parking lot together.

Brand pulled Jones under one arm as they walked. "I always appreciate backup, killer, but don't try anything like that again while you're this injured."

"It was five against one, Brand. Any warm body would have helped."

"You'd have been a warm hostage. We've been over this: don't put me in that position, kid." Brand ruffled the kid's hair as Jones grimaced at that thought. "And don't tell your father I locked you in the car unless you really want ice cream tonight. He might not take it in the spirit I intended."

"Dad wouldn't care about that, Brand. I wasn't locked in alone for hours or whatever. Are you sure you're okay? There's blood on your face. And your hands." The kid did a passable imitation of Brand's typical assessment pattern, running a hand through his godfather's hair to check his skull for hidden injuries and then observing his gait when nothing else seemed damaged. "Did they have weapons?"

"If they did, I was on 'em too quickly for it to matter. It's not my blood, either; they weren't pros, and they didn't land anything serious." Brand squeezed Jones' shoulders gently. "I'm fine. They're more of a mess, but they all walked away. It was over too fast to even be all that interesting."

The kid looked less than content with that after-action summary, but Brand was not going to say anything more about it right now.

"Sweet Pea, you and I should have a conversation." Brand saw some potential here. "Alice, you should get back in your car. Jones, get in your car. Passenger seat, and take a pill right now if your ribs are getting bad again."

The kid rolled his eyes as he moved away from Brand, but he did not object and Brand saw him digging in his pocket for the pill bottle as he opened his car door. He also seemed to be texting as soon as the door closed behind him.

Aha. So was Alice.

Brand must be getting used to Jones' attachment to his phone, because it was only semi-weird to see a text conversation taking place between two parked vehicles in the same parking lot. Brand shook his head, hoping that Alice had the good sense not to wind the kid up about his father. Even she should be able to see that would only end with a confrontation, and neither she nor Brand wanted to see that happen.

Trying to put that out of his mind for the moment, Brand turned himself and Sweet Pea away from the other two teens. "Want to do me a favor?"

"No."

"Good. I'm not in the market for a double agent or for someone stupid," Brand approved. Sweet Pea looked startled by his response. "You seem to actually understand the kind of fire you're playing with, and you want to help FP and not any of the other nutjobs causing problems in the Southside. That's a starting point. Now, I'm going to give you a number, and you're going to call it if you hear anything that might be worth something. You'll be compensated, and you'll scrape some of the muck off of your soul in the process."

"No. No money. It would be too easy for someone in the Southside to pick up on that."

Sweet Pea's eyes flickered toward Alice's car.

Bingo.

"She could have been seriously hurt today. There were five grown men here, looking for blood or worse, and you can't tell me that wasn't related to you two showing up at my place of business." Brand crossed his arms. "It looks to me like it wasn't your idea to drag Carter into any of this, either. That means you won't be able to control whatever comes next."

Brand recalled FP's erratic responses to his goading and tried to ease up a little with this teenaged gang member. "It's not your fault; she's responsible for her decisions. But you can make all of this a little safer. The number is for a burner phone. Don't attach a name to it in your phone or anything stupid like that."

Sweet Pea nodded. Good.

This whole debacle in the parking lot had been an irritating delay, but at this point it had really turned itself around. Brand had gotten a deeply satisfying workout, Jones was still okay, and now Brand had another source of information embedded in the Southside.

It wasn't a bad day's work. Not at all.

**00000**

"So, Archie texted me a suggestion for tonight. It's kind of strange, but really sweet." Veronica felt surprisingly nervous about sharing her boyfriend's idea with her friends - and including Alice in this made her feel particularly vulnerable.

Alice had also been acting strangely since she'd gotten home. Veronica wondered if it had been because she had not been invited to eat lunch with the rest of them, but that had come up unexpectedly and Alice had already been sitting with Sweet Pea. Veronica decided to ask her about it later on.

"Yeah?" Kevin was frowning at the latest cookie sheet he'd pulled from the oven. "Jughead is _not _going to be willing to eat these. And he might be right that they'd actually poison him. Are there more chocolate chips? I think I need to start over. Or... wasn't it chocolate chip cookies in Michigan? Is this just a terrible idea all around?" Kevin suddenly looked over at Veronica guiltily. "Uh, sorry, what were you saying?"

"Top left," Veronica pointed at a cupboard. "I have no idea what kind of cookies they were in Michigan, but I think we've got a lot of chocolate chips. Don't worry about needing a trial run, or even two. Um, Archie said that maybe we should write each other's résumés. That one of you should write the internship applications in my voice, and I should work on whatever you're doing - maybe college essays or something - in your voice."

"That's a cool idea," Alice responded immediately. Everyone turned to look at her. Alice had been quiet and very attached to her phone, no doubt texting Jughead - or maybe Sweet Pea.

Jughead apparently had some concerns about Sweet Pea that Alice was trying to dodge without actually addressing, though Alice had not explained anything more than that to Veronica - let alone why she was still keeping in touch with a Serpent after the events of the previous day - but Alice perked up now. "Can I do yours, Veronica? That will write itself."

Veronica felt herself freeze. "You... really want to, Alice?"

"I know - it's lazy of me - yours is definitely the easiest one. It would be fun, though, and making you sound less like the clichéd overachiever is probably the biggest challenge. But don't worry; I've got this." Alice grinned. She hadn't had a chance to share her writing process with anyone in a while, and this was an intriguing project with a lot of practical applications. "I can ask you questions, though, right? It's not like a challenge to see how well we know each other's lives?"

"It is definitely not that." Veronica was still feeling caught flat-footed, but then she saw Betty's eager nod as well and felt a little better about the whole thing.

"I'll do Kevin's," Betty offered. "I might be able to do it from memory."

"Challenge accepted, Betty Cooper," Kevin grinned. "Or I could do Alice's and get to know her better. I don't think I know a lot of what would go on your résumé, Alice."

"Not a huge amount." Alice shrugged. "That's the challenge with me."

"I'll do Alice's." Veronica decided to just go for it. "I'm sure you've got more than you think."

"How did Archie come up with this?" Betty wondered aloud. "That's brilliant."

"It was probably Jughead's idea," Alice offered. "Not that Archie doesn't also have brilliant ideas," Alice glanced toward Veronica, who had automatically bristled at her comment. "But Jughead's been doing some writing exercises lately. It's been a lot of different stuff, and I'm not surprised that some of it's more practical. Lately he's all about the creative and the utilitarian influencing each other in art. Which is really just a pretentious way of saying 'doing practical things with flair.'"

Veronica's eyes went to Betty, to see what her reaction was to being told about her boyfriend.

"Did you read the draft of the article he wrote about you?" Betty was laughing. "I knew something was up when I got to-,"

"Paragraph five!" Alice and Betty both started giggling as they completed the sentence together.

"Wait, what is this paragraph five?" Kevin was intrigued. "I need to make a new batch of cookie dough, and we should definitely warm up with a read-aloud before we write each other's cover letters or whatever."

"Oh, yeah." Betty pulled out her laptop. "Jughead definitely knew this part wasn't going to fly, because he's got footnotes all over it."

"There are _footnotes_?" Alice's eyes grew huge. "I have to see those."

"Oh, there are footnotes all right," Betty was laughing harder. "Maybe I should give my mother this version, just to see her face."

"Did he explain why he used bullet points for-,"

"Those are gone. I already edited that." Betty shook her head. "I think he really needed to write this article. He's been saving up a lot of writing ideas and they all sort of came out at once. It's really…"

"_Innovative_?" Alice offered, before she cracked up at her own word choice.

"Yes! I think he even said that in one of the footnotes here-," Betty was laughing again.

"Along with a Tarantino reference, I have no doubt?" Kevin was mixing ingredients into a bowl again, but grinning along with the girls' laughter.

"He mentions Tarantino, Shakespeare, and something about Wagner," Betty confirmed.

"Wagner? In an article about Alice?" Veronica came over to sit beside Betty and look over her shoulder at the article. She was starting to loosen up and have a little more fun. The fact that the teasing was at Jughead's expense would probably bother her more if it were not obvious from his footnotes that he'd been goofing off and had assumed that portion of the article would be vetoed by Betty, Alice, or - as it turned out - both of them. "Oh my goodness, this guy did _what _to a wolf now?"

"He just read the source material for Wagner's Ring Cycle." Alice shrugged. "Classic Jughead. I can always tell what he's reading from the way he writes. Including text messages. Maybe _especially _text messages."

"I know!" Betty laughed. "The British spelling has been intense lately."

"Right? He's started talking about learning Farsi. We're all going to be toast. I kind of feel like telling Agent Davies exactly what kind of a monster he's created with his insane college prep regimen."

"Brand thinks it's hilarious." Betty shook her head. "Do not waste your breath. Those two are even worse when they're together."

"Okay, let's hear it." Kevin was still adding ingredients to the cookie dough, but he turned so that he could face the others. "I'm getting the feeling that I need more 'innovative' writing in my life."

"Read the footnotes too," Alice added eagerly. "I'll help with the cookies this time, Kevin. I think we might want to chill the dough before we bake it."

"Sure; we have plenty of time." Kevin nodded agreeably. "But why?"

"I'll explain after the read-aloud." Alice gestured to Betty as she pulled out her phone to text. "Can you do his 'writerly' inflection, too? I'm going to tell him what we're up to."

Betty laughed. "I can try. Maybe you should video this for him. Isn't hearing his writing in someone else's voice on his list?"

"I think you're right. Good call." Alice continued texting Jughead as Kevin measured ingredients once again.

Veronica looked around the kitchen, relieved and pleased; this was feeling a lot more like a sleepover all of a sudden.

**00000**

"You _totally _could."

"Nope. No way, Archie."

"Well, the fight was ridiculous-," Archie was talking over the movie; Jughead was disagreeing with him.

"Actually, that part was more realistic. I've done that."

"Seriously?" Archie lit up at the promise of a good story.

Everyone in the living room turned to stare at Jughead - and not for the first time this evening. "I mean, not exactly that way. But-,"

"Jones. Stop talking." Brand ran a hand over his face. "How are you feeling? Because I'm gonna need you off of painkillers sooner rather than later, or you'll have to be quarantined. You cannot keep running your mouth. Some of that is classified information, and the rest is within spitting distance."

"But Brand-,"

"Don't argue with me." Brand glared. "I will cut you off. There are relative degrees of problems that you can create, and having you in screaming pain might be the lesser evil."

"_Brand-_,"

"Jughead, come here." FP patted the couch beside himself.

They'd assembled extra seating for their movie marathon after they'd finally pried the boys off of their phones - apparently their girlfriends were having a sleepover as well, and were sending funny videos -, and Jughead and Archie had dragged bedding and pillows into the living room so that they could relax on the floor with Trigger.

The adults had admittedly been somewhat occupied as well, though, so that had also contributed to their delayed start. Brand and FP had quietly discussed the altercation at the resident agency, and decided to share with Fred the basics of what had happened - just in case he and Archie were targets at a job site or similar.

Fred had been horrified, but immediately pointed out that everything still seemed to target the FBI more than the construction in the Southside. He was reassured to hear that the FBI would certainly take on the investigation of the attack at Riverdale High now that there had also been violence on their own property, and the three men had let the subject drop after that.

They had finally started the movies after one more delay: Jughead had begun regaling Fred Andrews with tales of the articles he was hoping to write for _The Register_, and pitching the idea of 'an exclusive' with Fred about the construction on Southside High.

FP and Brand had exchanged surprised looks; neither had known Jughead had finished the article about Alice, let alone begun soliciting additional freelance work. FP had made a mental note to ask Jughead more about it, and hopefully read some of his work later in the week.

Now Jughead climbed up beside his father and sat between him and Mr. Andrews on the couch. His dad leaned in close to whisper to him while everyone else tried to give them privacy by focusing on the film. "Let's take it easy while you're on narcotics, huh? Brandon's right. You've got a lot in that head of yours that should probably stay there, and your filter's slipping."

Jughead nodded, chastened by the quiet intervention. Maybe the drugs were affecting him more than he'd realized.

FP hugged him lightly and was surprised when Jughead held onto him for a few extra moments. He made eye contact with Brandon, who was looking at him curiously over Jughead's shoulder. FP gave him a quick nod to indicate that he thought he had it handled.

Jughead returned to the floor and didn't stray away from safe topics again when he resumed joking and arguing with Archie.

When they took a break between that film and the next in the series, Brandon took the opportunity to ask FP about the exchange. "What did you say to the kid? He got right back in line."

"Just that you were right." FP shrugged. He was pouring a fresh jar of salsa into the nearly empty bowl that they'd been working their way through.

"No - you did something that actually worked. I butt heads with Jones and he pushes back like it's a game. You _whisper _something and he's suddenly a model citizen. What did you say?"

FP was amused. "I didn't threaten his life, if that's what you're thinking. I'm his father. It's probably as simple as that."

"Oh, no, it's not," Fred walked over from the living room area to join them. Jughead and Archie were on Jughead's laptop, looking up bloopers from the film they'd just finished. They were already laughing again. "You've got a touch. I would normally say that Jughead's easy to work with, but Brandon's right - he's _not _always easy to work with, and he certainly hasn't been this evening."

FP looked startled and Brand bit back a smile. He probably wasn't used to being complimented by Fred Andrews, parent extraordinaire.

Then FP's face darkened. "He's worried about upsetting me. He's feeling insecure with me right now is all. And I guess I've earned that."

Brand shook his head. "Uh-uh. He's shaken up-," Brand raised his eyebrows, trying to signal to FP not to say anything more about his absence from the household in front of Fred, and making a point of implying that he only meant Jughead's attack at school, "-but he's willing to fight with you. That right there in the living room was you hitting exactly the right pressure point with just the right amount of force. You know when to push and when to back off. It _is _a touch."

"Well, to be fair, you do a pretty good job of getting what you want, too, Brandon." Fred smiled at his own understatement.

"I just push." Brand cocked his head to one side in a self-deprecating motion. "That usually gets the job done, but it's not always elegant. Or efficient. What FP did in there with Jones was both."

"Well, I can't teach you what I don't understand," FP's tone was firm and dismissive. "Just pay attention to him. He'll always give you tells."

Huh. Brand was starting to get a sense that FP was hiding some more talents that he was only just catching wind of. Brand had a number of rituals with the kid, knew quite a few of Jones' quirks, and could read him well. But not the way FP could. "You were seeing _tells _during that last movie?"

"Yeah. Not that the painkillers are helping." FP smiled when Jughead's laughter was louder than normal and matched Archie's over whatever blooper they were currently watching. "You know him pretty well, Brandon, but sometimes when you fight with him you stop watching him for information. Usually when you're giving him an order and he's disagreeing with it."

Brand's eyes narrowed. He had (foolishly) not expected to have FP's scrutiny turned on him. But maybe this was useful information. "Is this a consistent pattern that you've noticed?"

"Just the low-stakes orders." FP did not hesitate. "In anything approaching a crisis he listens better and you watch him a lot more closely. You both have crisis management down to a science."

"You've been watching me, old man?"

"Always." FP took a big bite of tortilla chip then, shot Brand a challenging grin, and turned away to face the living room. "We ready to bake something, boys?"

"Yeah, but can Brand do it?" Jughead did not look up from the screen he and Archie were sitting over. They both exclaimed when something dramatic played out in the video they were watching.

"I've got it." Brand gave a dramatically longsuffering sigh, but he smiled when Jughead shot him a thumbs up without looking away from the video. When Fred and FP gave him questioning looks, Brand quickly shook his head to keep them from saying anything.

"Double dark chocolate," Jughead added.

"That was lethal. Nobody will eat that crap but you."

"Pre-cisely," Jughead enunciated with a grin. This time he did look up.

"Yeah, not happening. I'll just throw in some extra chocolate chunks for you."

"Fine." Jughead looked back at the screen.

"He's eating other people's cooking again?" Fred kept his voice low. "He doesn't have to help make the brownies?"

"He usually at least comes over when I cook. Has he done this with you before, Brandon?" FP asked.

"This is new," Brand replied quietly. "He ate croissants earlier at work, and I think he took himself by surprise. I'm not planning to say anything to him about it until I'm sure it's going to stick."

"We can hear you," Jughead called over to the kitchen.

"That is a good plan, though," Archie added. "Jug will never catch on."

"Ha. I'm still not making double dark chocolate," Brand called back, "but I'm proud of you, Trip. I've really missed takeout."

"One step at a time, Brand. Don't go ordering a pizza or anything crazy like that." Jughead gave Brand a warning look.

"I'll try not to go wild, Jones."

The adults shook their heads in amusement when the two teens groaned loudly in response to whatever happened next in the blooper reel.

"Let me see what you've got there." FP left the kitchen to join the boys in the living room.

"Brandon," Fred said quietly, following up on their conversation, "that's remarkable about Jughead. You really do have a touch of your own with him."

Brand was surprised and pleased by how nice it felt to have some of Fred's approval for himself. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"And you of all people know that FP's... complicated," Fred continued, dropping his voice further. "But you should also know that he is extremely good with people; you can learn a lot from him. It's almost embarrassing how much he's done for my crews at the company since he started working there in the spring."

"Yeah?" Brand found this interesting as well.

"Don't you ever try that on a jobsite, Archie," FP pointed at the screen, and suddenly both teens were howling with laughter at the mental image he'd conjured for them.

"Yeah." Fred nodded at what was playing out in the living room. "Just watch."

FP was sitting on the floor behind the boys, with his back against the couch. Jughead was grinning at him and then he scooted back so that he could lean against his father. Archie pointed at something on the screen with a shout of laughter and then looked over to see what FP's reaction was. When FP made a face and shook his head as if it had not been funny, Archie began engaging with him, trying to persuade him of the video's merits. He quickly lost interest in the video itself and focused his full attention on FP's playful pushback.

"He just walks into a room and everyone wants him to see them. Notice them." Fred turned away to begin pulling out bowls and spoons and help Brand out with the baking. "It can be galling to see how easy it is for him, and it's certainly a kick to the ego when he works his magic and sucks up a lot of the attention that I might like just a little bit of, from my own son." Fred didn't sound irritated, though, so much as affectionate. "Bu-ut it works on me, too. It's hard to resist him."

Brand watched FP for another few moments.

When FP met his eyes questioningly - because yes, Brand was officially staring - Brand raised his eyebrows in a question of his own. FP looked confused, but shrugged it off and broke eye contact when Brand did not offer any more information.

He wasn't sure what to do about it yet, but Brand felt like he'd finally caught on to something he should have known before. Something that might be very useful.

**00000**

"It's your turn, Clark," Jughead said wearily; he was sore and beginning to feel like his joints were creaking with fatigue.

The speech wasn't even scheduled to take place for another hour, and Jughead and Clark had been running errands all morning and into the afternoon. It had pushed him past his drug-induced comfort zone, and Jughead was getting nervous that he might start doing damage to his ribs or muscles as his whole body tried to compensate awkwardly for his injuries in order to minimize the pain radiating from them.

"Let me guess. Someone wants more water?" Clark had offered to run all of the errands when this had turned out to be their role as interns at the Southside High speech, so at this point his teasing was just to entertain them both. "Well played. I've gotten all of the heavy stuff, Jones. But you know, I'm not going to complain - I'm going to be jacked."

"Yep." Jughead was too tired to give him a more satisfying response.

"Hey, isn't that the chicken pox guy?" Clark hesitated before heading to retrieve another case of water for the many people involved in the speech and related PR events.

"What?" Jughead couldn't even begin to parse that.

"The guy who 'gave you the chicken pox.'" Clark still wasn't making any sense, but he raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

"Are you trying to invent a secret code? Because it's not working." Jughead suddenly realized what he was talking about. "Wait, do you mean Special Agent Donn?"

"Right over there." Clark gestured subtly, so they would not call attention to themselves. "The interim SAC himself."

"I guess it makes sense. It's a big event, and it's connected to an active case." Jughead tried to shrug it off.

"I'll get Special Agent Davies first. Then the water." Clark gave Jughead a conspiratorial look. "You might have to work on a _project _again."

"You'd better hope not," Jughead called after him as Clark moved away quickly to find Brand. Maybe Clark thought that Jughead had been drafted into some sort of Donn-related project by Brand. Who knew; Clark seemed able to construct a whole story out of a single detail. Or less.

Brand showed up very soon thereafter. "Jones. Here's the deal."

Jughead folded his arms and waited.

"Donn's obviously here, and I'm going to have to do some work today that you can't tag along for. So, Clark is officially off errands for the rest of the afternoon once he delivers a case of water to McCoy and company. He's going to stick with you." Brand held up a finger for emphasis and to head off any objections. Not that Jughead had any.

"If Donn wants anything, you both do it. Together. Don't argue with Donn, and don't refuse to do what he asks; just go along with anything that comes up - but you and Clark stay attached at the hip. I'll find you if we get separated; if that happens, you're the little lost hikers who stay put. Got it?"

Jughead gave him a look. "So… don't scream like hell?"

"Very funny. Your dad's up there, by the way," Brand pointed almost directly above them to where FP was visible on the roof of Southside High. "Looks like he's calling some of the shots today. Could be that Andrews finally realized he was being underutilized."

"Hey, cool. Is Archie up there too?" Jughead scanned the workers carefully, but he and Brand were too close to the school to see the roof well - and everyone visible was wearing hard hats so the most identifiable feature of his best friend was hidden.

"I doubt it." Brand pointed to several construction workers gathered around Mr. Andrews. "I think he's with them. Whatever work they're doing today, Andrews Construction will want the best possible optics - and a hyper teenager on a roof is not that."

That seemed fair.

"What are you doing today?"

"Stuff." Brand quirked his eyebrows and grinned.

"_You_ get to be the secret service, don't you?" Jughead grinned back. "That's awesome, Brand. Don't, like, take a bullet. But you should definitely tackle the mayor on live TV if anything looks suspicious."

"You got it." Brand laughed and tousled Jughead's hair.

Clark came jogging over a few moments later. "All set, sir!"

"Thank you, Clark," Brand nodded to him.

Jughead had noticed that he nodded to Clark like that a lot, and Clark seemed to really like it. It was kind of like his hair tousling with Brand.

Which reminded him: they definitely needed to talk to Clark and explain everything. Maybe at the demolition the following day, when they would apparently not be officially working but would still get to attend. He'd ask Brand about it later on.

Brand gave them a smile of approval as he walked away.

"Our plan is working. He likes us," Clark was grinning as well. "I mean, we never could have predicted that a violent gang would be so foolish as to come after you at the resident agency - on their _property_, no less - right when he was walking us out. But it's official: we are so in. Did you know that some of the agents watched the surveillance footage of Special Agent Davies destroying all five gang members? Everyone's talking about it. They're even discussing having a private screening - and we might get invited."

Jughead had already asked Brand if he could watch it, since the security footage was accessible through his secure laptop. He'd refused. Emphatically.

"Maybe."

"Get excited. We've got the best possible letter of rec writer pretty much _in the bag_." Clark widened his eyes to emphasize his words. "That's money in the bank, Jones."

"Uh-huh." Jughead was beginning to wonder if he should just level with Clark right now.

"Hey!" Archie bounded over from the group of construction workers Brand had pointed out. "Great hard hat, am I right? This right here is the look. Did you see the girls? They're way back there-," Archie pointed, "-but they're going to get in position to take photos so that we have before and after pictures for the demo tomorrow. Which is going to be amazing, thanks in part to yours truly." Arche grinned proudly. "Betty already got a few shots of your dad on the roof, and I saw Brand with Mayor McCoy. He's got his sunglasses on, so it's getting real."

"Oh my God, you've got your friends calling him that too?" Clark looked from Jughead to Archie.

"Yeah, I know it's weird - but you'll get used to it," Archie shrugged. "That's what Jug calls him, so I guess I eventually picked it up. Are you Clark?"

"Yes." Clark still looked unsettled, but he shook Archie's hand. "Are you the best friend from the equipment locker?"

"I can't believe that's what you remember from all of the _epic _stories that Jughead has no doubt told you about me." Archie shot Jughead a look. "Yeah, I'm Archie. 'The best friend.' You'll never guess what I've been doing-,"

"Hey, look alive; ten o'clock," Clark shushed Archie as he directed Jughead's attention. "We should find a better spot. One where we're less visible."

"It's Donn," Jughead explained swiftly when Archie craned his neck to try and see what Clark was talking about. "He's working here, and I'm supposed to-,"

"Oh man, yeah - no - I got this," Archie stepped in front of Jughead to hide him from view. "Come on, Clark, shield wall. Donn's a psycho."

"Jones, what have you been _telling _people?" Clark allowed Archie to pull him into 'shield wall' position, but his expression was pure horror. "You cannot talk about these kinds of things outside of the agency."

"You should see him when he's on painkillers." Archie snorted.

"Jones?" Clark was starting to look very upset. "Do I need to have this conversation with you? Because I really don't want to have it with someone else if your operations security isn't up to the job."

"No, Clark, it's really-,"

Jughead never got to finish his sentence.

Because the whole world exploded around them.

**00000**

**Yeah, things just went nuts with the plot. :-D Thanks for reading! I'll be writing and posting while traveling over holidays and New Year's, because I love writing and celebrating and doing both seems awesome. Your reviews are a constant encouragement to me as well, particularly as the plot explodes (bahaha) and everything begins to collide in this story... :-D **

**I hope you're having a wonderful week!**

**-Button**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen! Now the potential is for things to become VERY confusing (for readers as well as characters!), so please let me know if things are getting too muddy. The issue: there are not just groups working against one another, but internal factions splintering with their own motives, and that has ended up meaning there is a LOT going on. I'll do my best to keep it from getting swampy, and some of the plot is legit basically 'yes; life is confusing right now,' but if you have any desire for a clarifying overview of the players, I can embed that into a scene more explicitly next chapter. :)**

**Thank you for the lovely review, Living Lucid Dream! Sorry (and also not sorry?) about the crazy cliffhanger; here's the resolution and more stuff! ;) I really, _really_ enjoyed giving Brand a show-offy fight; he's missed being in his element, and it has been SO long since he got to let loose. And I agree - it's easy to forget that he's a bruiser and a half when he's been working for three stories(!) primarily on being a better human and respected professional. :) Sweet Pea is now officially in the maelstrom! I'm excited to see that play out as well, and when everyone comes out of crisis mode and we get more sleepovers (I'm so glad you enjoyed that scene! It was such a nice break to write among all of the hurt feelings and chaos, and I was hoping it would feel like a relief and not a random break in tone! :-D), I'm really interested in seeing how the dynamics shift. Also, FP 'shining' is exactly what I'd hoped for in this story; I'm so glad you are seeing it play out that way! He had SO much heavy lifting to do in DIV and YCHT, and I thought he needed space to do a little more than follow therapists' orders (and Keller's orders, Fred's recommendations, etc.). And yeah... Jug needs to spill the beans to Clark. I think we're very close to that now. :) I hope the cliffhanger's resolution is satisfying!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

It seemed a lot like they'd been magically transported somewhere else. And slammed into by a truck.

And then maybe a million bags of caustic flour had burst open and come pouring out of the high school to wash over them.

They stayed down for what seemed like a couple of minutes, braced as if there could be more coming. As if that had not just been the entirety of Southside High blowing up.

"Are you okay, Jughead?" Archie recovered first and started picking himself up from the ground where he and Clark had been flung - more or less on top of his best friend. Archie held his shirt sleeve over his mouth and nose to protect his lungs from the thick dust surrounding them. "I don't think Clark is."

"What are you talking about? I'm fine." Clark pushed himself up off of the ground and coughed as he unbuttoned one sleeve so he could likewise cover his mouth and nose with his shirt.

"Um, I think I'm okay - the 'shield wall' was between me and… did the school just _blow up_?" Jughead was holding his sleeve in front of his mouth and nose just like his two friends as he climbed back to his feet, but right away he figured that he'd been spared some of the concussion by their relative positions. "Hang on. You two might be hurt and not feeling it yet because you're in shock. You shouldn't move until you get checked out."

"Uh, Jug - the school just went up, and that was _not _the demo we had planned. That blew out toward people instead of coming straight down." Archie looked around, even though they could barely see through the dusty haze. "We're on our feet. That means we're not getting 'checked out' anytime soon."

"My dad." Jughead's head snapped up toward where he'd seen his father last, and he tried not to gasp filthy air into his lungs as panic made his heart race. "He was on the roof, Archie. He might be-,"

"Exactly. Other people need help a lot more than we do. We can be that help." Archie nodded firmly. "We'll find your dad first, Jug. I think they were coming down off the roof, so he's probably just about as banged up as we are. We'll make sure he's okay and then find my dad. He should be further away from the building, so he's probably fine."

"Wait. We're doing _what_?" Clark suddenly seemed to clue in to the fact that they were making plans.

"Just follow me; I know this site, and I know where the explosives were. Only there might have been more of them than there should have been. That seemed really big," Archie frowned. "The work crew that was on the roof should be somewhere over that way. We'll start there."

"No." Brand appeared through the dense cloud of dust, panting hard through a filtration mask. He handed them three more, which they put on gratefully.

Everyone looked up at him, falling silent - and counterintuitively feeling a lot more frightened now that they had an authority figure to look to for guidance.

"We're pulling everyone back so that the first responders can get in and see what they're dealing with. Think headcount - don't get missed, and don't get counted twice. Got it? You three are now counted; get to the agency vehicles and wait somewhere where you're not inhaling this crap." Brand dropped a hand on Jughead's shoulder. "You're okay, kid. Breathe. Take a pain pill, too. And hey, I got to tackle the mayor, so try thinking about _that _for a minute."

Jughead had to admit that he was potently distracted by the mental image of Brand tackling Mayor McCoy in the aftermath of an explosion. The distracting visual helped his breathing even out. He obediently kicked back a pill as well; he was probably overdue, and falling had really hurt.

"I'm going after your dad next. He's probably okay, but we'll just confirm that." Brand gave Jughead a reassuring look and then turned to Archie. "Your father is fine, Andrews, but he's not going to be heading home any time soon. This is FUBAR."

Jughead and Archie both nodded, relieved to hear that Mr. Andrews was okay and that Brand would be the one to search for FP.

"Now get out of here. Go." Brand shooed them. "Head to the RA when they send vehicles back that direction. I'll find you."

They made their way out of the worst of the dust cloud, which seemed to drop off remarkably quickly as they moved away from the school, and then over to where the agency's vehicles were parked. Archie handed off his hard hat to a man who was running in the opposite direction.

"Special Agent Davies will find your dad." Clark unlocked his Prius and they got in, ignoring the layer of grime that they instantly transferred to the seats of the car. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Yeah. Maybe he did get down in time." Now that the initial panic impulse had passed and been replaced by adrenaline, Jughead found that he wasn't feeling a lot of fear. He hoped that Brand would update them with good news before the fear did set in more fully. Jughead suddenly remembered his phone and pulled it from his pocket.

"No cell service." Archie held up his own.

"Yeah, I guess not." Jughead held up his as well. It was dramatically cracked and likely unusable.

"Hey, you and me both," Clark couldn't help but laugh when he held up his own cell phone. It was even more crushed than Jughead's. They all placed their phones on the center console of the car. "Watch for any of those to get a signal. We don't want to flood the towers unnecessarily, but a text to family offsite should be okay."

There was a sudden knock on the rear windshield. They all jumped and then laughed nervously at themselves.

"I've got this." Clark opened his window. "Hey, are we supposed to start heading back to the agency now?"

Agent Donn walked around the car and came into view.

"Not yet. They're not letting most vehicles leave until they know more about what happened," Donn leaned down so that he could see into the back seat, "but we can't have someone who's underage and attached to the FBI on site with all of this going on. Jones, you're with me; I'm attaching you to the offsite investigation for the rest of the day. The resident agency has been notified. Let's go."

Jughead's breath caught. Brand had told him not to refuse to do anything. But a bomb had just gone off. That had to change everything. Or maybe this was what Brand had meant - in case of an emergency, go along with Donn willingly. And bring Clark.

Jughead opened his mouth to reply, but Clark beat him to it.

"Special Agent Donn, I have an active assignment to stay with Jones until his father picks him up." Clark's facial expression was suddenly very blank.

Maybe he did have a poker face after all.

"So do I," Archie added smoothly. "I don't think we've had the pleasure." Archie extended a hand over the seats toward Donn. "The name's Archer."

When Clark didn't blink, and even nodded toward Archie's extended hand as if he expected Donn to shake it, it was confirmed: Clark definitely had a poker face. He'd just been holding out on Jughead when it came to hiding things from Brand. It probably helped that they were all filthy from the explosion, too; it was not obvious that Archie was dressed for harder work than anyone associated with the FBI.

"We don't need you all." Donn ignored Archie's outstretched hand and looked over toward the pile of rubble where the school had stood. He suddenly seemed like he was in a hurry.

"With all due respect, sir-," Clark began. He began speaking more slowly than usual, and was almost drawling. "-it might be beneficial if we took just a moment to check in with Special Agent Davies. He said that he'd meet us here, and I understand that you have your orders, but I have mine as well, and-," Clark's voice was slowing down even more, as if he was working through a complicated word problem.

Maybe he was buying time. Or trying to stress Donn into a hasty decision. Jughead looked over at Archie, who gave him a warning look and a slight shake of his head. Somehow those two had managed to psychically make a plan.

"Fine. Come on. We'll sort it out later, and for now you can all come with me." Donn opened Clark's car door for him and then moved to Jughead's door.

Archie opened the back door on the opposite side of the vehicle and tugged Jughead after himself, away from Agent Donn.

They followed Donn to a large van that was parked at the edge of the chaos - which seemed only to be getting worse at this point, even though the dust was literally settling -, and the agent motioned them into the back seats. Donn climbed into the driver's seat.

They were delayed by two men who were keeping traffic from leaving the site. It was probably part of the investigation that was starting up, and Jughead started scanning around the vehicle for any sign of Brand or anyone else he knew.

The more people who knew what was happening, the safer he would feel about the whole arrangement.

As they sat there, Donn was quietly cursing and it seemed as though a number of people were eyeing the van curiously. Finally someone who looked a little more official approached Donn's window and asked who was in the vehicle - and then cleared a path for them to exit the parking lot.

In a few more moments they were pulling away from the remains of Southside High.

"Do we know anything yet about what happened - or why?" Clark had slid to the center of the bench seat just behind the front bucket seats, while Archie and Jughead had opted to take the rear bench seat. They all buckled their seatbelts, which necessitated digging around for them; clearly most passengers did not bother with them. They were shaken up, though, and any risk at all sounded like a bad idea at the moment.

Jughead wasn't sure that they could trust anything coming from Donn, but he did recognize that anything Donn told them was information. Even though it might be information about Donn himself more than about the circumstances, it could still be helpful.

"Just what you saw. It looks like someone tampered with the explosives. Moved or supplemented at least some of them, and - obviously - detonated them." Donn did not seem enthusiastic about chatting, but he looked back at Clark in the rearview mirror. And then his eyes went to Jughead.

"I concur," Archie said firmly, staring aggressively into the mirror.

Jughead was relieved when Donn's eyes slid off of him and over to Archie, and then back to the road. They turned onto a side street, and with that one turn it became apparent that they were not headed toward the resident agency.

"Where are we going?" Jughead finally spoke up.

"The field office." Donn's tone made it clear that he thought that should have been obvious. "We're doing real work today."

Clark looked back at Jughead then, relief and some excitement in his expression. It _was _kind of cool if they were being drafted into the higher-level investigation, even just for one day.

They turned onto the highway and picked up speed.

Jughead tried to relax. He reminded himself that they were following Brand's instructions; they had been delayed leaving Southside High and a lot of people had seen them and would know they were with Donn; they were headed from one place full of responsible FBI agents to another place that would be full of them.

He was not alone; Clark and Archie had his back.

The shivery feeling of vulnerability due to his cracked ribs and horrific bruising, as well as the pain meds that were kicking in - and their slowing of his reflexes -, ebbed away. It was going to be okay.

And then Jughead recognized a traffic pattern that he had never actually seen before, but that Brand had taught him about in his tutorials on offensive and defensive driving.

"Hey. Agent Donn, take the next exit. We have to get off the highway right now. We need to _bail_, Agent Donn. _Take the_ _exit_!" Jughead heard his voice becoming increasingly frantic as they made no move toward the off-ramp - and then it was too late.

The vehicles that had begun pacing each other a number of car lengths ahead of them slowed, one dropping back to drive alongside them, and suddenly another van was pulling up toward their rear bumper. They were boxed in - and losing speed quickly in order to avoid a collision.

Brand had boiled down the driving maneuvers he'd explained to Jughead into one simple phrase: "speed is life."

Which meant this was definitely not good.

Donn cursed again.

"Are those... unmarked cop cars?" Archie guessed.

Jughead's eyes were wide with fear, but that was a hopeful idea; maybe they _were _being kidnapped by Donn, and Brand had somehow gotten law enforcement into an intercept position already.

Clark was scowling. "No way would any police vehicle look like that."

Good point.

Donn had to bring the van to a complete stop. They were on a large highway, and even though they'd been forced into the far right lane, cars were whipping past the spot where the group of vehicles effectively blocked two lanes.

And, almost as soon as their vehicle had halted, the door next to Clark swung open.

"You didn't _lock-_," Clark was cut off when a black bag was yanked over his head and he was jerked harshly by his arms toward the open door by two masked men. Clark grunted in pain when the seatbelt obviously took his would-be abductors by surprise - and then he yelped a more forceful objection when they pulled him painfully against the lap belt a second time before realizing what the problem was and reaching up to release it.

"Get down." Jughead sprang into action. He pulled Archie to the floor of the van and they both scrambled under the seats and toward the back. They'd probably been seen, but even a few seconds of delay - or maybe only one and not both of them being taken - could be very helpful.

Unfortunately the rear doors to the van opened behind them, making it simple work for the masked men to haul them out and onto their feet.

Jughead froze when a gun was stuck in his face, and he saw Archie recoiling from one as well. It was hopefully just a tactic to discourage them from fighting back, but it worked. Black bags were pulled over their heads just as had been done to Clark.

When the cars - and the huge trucks - continued to fly past and began leaning on their horns, it was terrifying to be blind to what was going on. Jughead could not shake an overpowering awareness that at any moment they could be shoved in front of oncoming traffic and they'd have no ability to protect themselves.

Hands rifled through their pockets, and then made another pass when they turned up only wallets, keys, and Jughead's bottle of pain pills.

"No cell phones?" Someone spoke, and another voice cursed.

"Some of 'em are FBI. They might be wired. Check them."

They hadn't thought twice about leaving their useless cell phones in Clark's car. That apparently made their captors suspicious. Jughead winced but stayed quiet when someone began a painfully rough pat-down of his bruised torso and legs.

They were still standing on the highway. Another truck horn blared. This was all so… public. The police would know about this right away; Brand would hear about it swiftly. This was unbelievably bold.

None of that boded well.

As they were herded blindly away from their own van, Jughead realized that there were a lot of possibilities for what was happening.

It could be a Serpents move, trying to get back at Brand. Or maybe it was Donn who had set them up, making a move against Brand - or against Rose. Or it could be that Rose was retrieving them from Donn if he'd finally decided that unhinged employees were not to be trusted.

Or, however unlikely, it was possible that Brand had sent a team of some kind - someone sketchy but effective - to get them back from Donn.

Agent Donn did not seem to be with them any longer, but that made some sense. He'd be the highest value target, so he might be separated from them if he was a victim too. He was also the driver, and could conceivably have been ignored if they didn't realize that he was with the FBI.

And yet, Donn _had _driven them here - and he'd left the doors unlocked.

Then again, it was probably just tempting to blame Donn since that would mean that they were safer: he'd made it clear over the summer that he'd been more interested in hurting than killing - and _most _interested in impressing Brand. Jughead automatically felt like Donn was more of a known quantity, and there were ways of recovering if it turned out that he was attempting another bizarre stunt for Brand's benefit.

Or maybe these were the terrorists who had taken out the school, and they wanted hostages. Or an opportunity to send one more message.

Or it could be someone who opposed those terrorists, and who wanted to send a message of their own to compete with - or respond to - the bombing of the school.

Man. Riverdale had become quite the battlefield.

Jughead was forced in the direction of the van that had driven up behind their own, and his arms were pulled roughly behind him. There were too many people and too many guns for him to even consider fighting back - and Jughead really needed to ask Brand about decision-making while on narcotics.

Another truck horn blared, terrifyingly close to them, but this time Jughead didn't even jump. The meds must be kicking in; he was feeling increasingly calm, and he knew that wasn't right. It was not a good sign for his reflexes, either.

Zip ties closed tightly around his wrists and just above his elbows. With the hood in place as well, this felt awfully familiar. Jughead was intensely grateful that he was not gagged and that there was nothing around his neck. His legs were not even restrained; really, this was not so terrible.

The three of them were hefted into the rear of the van. It did not seem to have any seats in the back, and Jughead felt his wrists being zip tied again - this time to an anchor inside of the vehicle.

Whatever Archie had been secured to seemed to give him more play than the other two; while Jughead found himself awkwardly struggling to find a position where his hands were not jammed painfully into the metal floor of the vehicle, Archie's shaking hands found one of his wrists and squeezed. In the small space that they were crowded into, Jughead could feel that Clark's whole body was shaking. Both he and Archie reached for his hands - and sorted themselves out swiftly when they collided while doing so.

"Aw. That's cute." Someone spoke before slamming the door of the vehicle that they were now in.

"Are you okay?" Jughead asked quietly, not sure if there were others in the vehicle who might punish them for talking. They hadn't been gagged, but none of them made a move to dislodge the bags that had been left over their heads. "Clark?"

"We-," Clark faltered and he took a deep breath before continuing. "We have not been hurt, and we have not been threatened. We're together, and it seems like they're planning to keep us together for the time being. I'm fine."

"Is that FBI code for 'we probably won't be killed'?" Archie sounded hopeful, even though his voice shook.

"I wish. It's Clark code for 'it could be worse, so let's stay positive.'" Clark said ruefully. "We need to keep our heads down. Someone just blew up a school; there might already be fatalities. These people might not have a lot of incentive left not to kill us."

They lapsed into silence at that cheery thought.

The vehicle began to move. They instinctively braced their legs against the walls as they slid toward the rear doors on the slick metal floor of the vehicle and their wrists were put under painful tension.

"Don't lock your knees," Archie suggested.

"Good call," Clark approved. He continued nervously. "I've, uh, had a training on this. It was an online module but - you know - better than nothing. Figuring out the number of people involved and what weapons they have is our primary goal as hostages; anything we can figure out could be useful. Let's try to keep track of our turns, too, so we have a clue about our location."

"Left." Jughead said obediently as the vehicle slowed and then turned sharply; it was probably illegally reversing direction on the highway.

"Silently, Jones. And if you're feeling loopy on those painkillers, maybe don't talk when we get - um, wherever we're going," Clark was still shaking, but his voice sounded a little stronger as he tried to take charge of the trio.

Archie gave Jughead's wrist a squeeze. "Nah, you can talk it out if you want. I know you have trouble keeping left and right straight."

"He's kidding, Clark," Jughead said quickly.

"Oh. Uh, maybe joking is good, Archer. It might help us stay calm and respond more quickly if we do have an opportunity to escape," Clark said. He was still trembling. He took a deep breath. "Any idea how many there are?"

"Maybe twenty?" Archie guessed. "And definitely handguns."

"I thought eight or ten," Jughead countered skeptically. "How many cars were there? Four? There were at least six people, since two grabbed each of us. And, Archie, I think the goal for us is to have more specific information. How many guns, what kind, and that sort of thing. So we can be rescued more efficiently."

"You've done the training too?" Clark was surprised and that seemed to distract him from being scared for a moment. But then the vehicle came to a stop and he flinched so hard that it made Jughead jump too. When they began moving again, probably past a stop sign or stoplight, Clark sighed heavily with relief.

"Well, what kind of handguns were those, Jug?" Archie asked breathlessly. "They looked really big."

Archie sounded terrified, and Jughead realized that he too had been startled by the vehicle's stop - and likely also Clark's reaction to it.

Jughead thought of his painkillers again as he considered how much more fearful his companions were; the drugs might be making him perilously calm, and Brand had suggested the previous evening that he lay off of them if something bad happened.

Well, he couldn't do anything about the one he'd taken right after the explosion, and the pills were gone now. Jughead didn't even have a decision to make at this point.

"I think they were normal sized guns, Arch," Jughead corrected gently. "The only one I got a good look at was a .45."

"So between six and twenty people, handguns including .45's, and they used hoods and zip ties." Clark's voice shook. "This... isn't good."

"It seems professional," Jughead agreed, figuring that was what Clark meant. "But that's not all bad. It also means they know how to keep us alive. They might be less likely to panic and do something to us without thinking through the consequences."

"Okay. Good. That's important." Archie seemed eager for any heartening news at all. His grip on Jughead's wrist tightened.

"That is a good point, yes," Clark's grip tightened as well.

Whether painkillers were coloring his response or not, the situation reminded Jughead of how it had been slightly less scary with the drug dealers when he'd had Trigger to worry about. And, despite the obvious similarities, this was so much less terrifying than when he'd been kidnapped in Toronto.

This time they could look out for each other.

**00000**

Brand was starting to have trouble. The world around him had been reduced to however many feet he could see through the dust that was persisting; he felt a lot more alone than he likely was. His ears were still ringing, so it was probable that he was also hearing less than he should.

All of that contributed to his feeling of being isolated in a war zone.

The whole situation was becoming horrifying as well as disastrous, and Brand was pretty sure he'd just spotted an actual human limb sticking out from under the rubble that the highschool had been reduced to. Hopefully it was still attached to a human, and ideally one who was alive and had space and air under there.

He was about to find out.

Brand had not been able to locate FP, and at this point he figured he needed to do whatever he could to help people as he was able.

The kid was no doubt waiting by a useless cellphone, and they wouldn't get to touch base until everyone headed back to the resident agency in person to regroup. With any luck FP would come walking up behind Brand long before then, pitch in with the digging and lifting that was every bit as hard as it looked, and get an update about Jones then.

Brand wished he had tools. Assistance. Training. Anything to figure out how to do this more effectively. He was making progress, but it felt stupidly slow as he tried to figure out how to move chunks of building that were wildly inconsistent in size, shape, and structural integrity.

The rubble finally started to shift as he slowly made headway, and it became clear that the leg was attached to a human. That human was somehow still wearing a hard hat, which might well be the only reason he was still alive. He must have been in a stairwell when the building came down. Brand didn't recognize him, but he did recognize that something very wrong had happened here:

The lower half of the construction worker's face was obscured by duct tape and he was handcuffed to a metal railing.

They had already known that this had not been an accident, but now they had a serious lead.

Brand looked around for anyone he could notify, but then he had a realization that was accompanied by the harshest jolt yet:

_He _might be the person who needed to be notified.

And he was here, in the thick of things, where nobody could find him.

Brand did a quick check of the man's injuries and made the executive decision to lift him and carry him to safety - and to wherever the more responsible members of the agency had no doubt set up some form of mobile command center.

He felt a stab of worry over Jones' father, who might also be buried in rubble if he had not made it off of the roof where Brand had seen him last, but this was what he needed to do. FP was just going to have to figure things out on his own.

**00000**

Betty and Veronica were grateful when they were able to use the zoom lens on Betty's camera to spot their boyfriends emerging from the blast zone and heading straight toward a parking lot. Instead of going to meet them, though, and most likely being barred from entering the FBI parking area anyway, they decided to focus on finding out what had just happened.

They both knew better than to get into the middle of anything like the disaster that was playing out in front of them, but Veronica and Betty had also thoroughly learned the value of skirting the edges to gather information that might not be apparent to those who were in the center of the action.

Which was why they saw Alice arguing with Sweet Pea.

And Kevin making a beeline toward them both.

But then something else entirely caught their eyes simultaneously.

"Uh - was that just-," Betty was pretty sure her eyes were playing tricks on her.

"You saw him too?" Veronica gaped.

Joaquin DeSantos had just walked past them, covered in dust from the explosion. Even with a hard hat on, it was obvious that his hair had been cut short - but it was definitely Joaquin.

"Let's follow him." Betty did not hesitate.

"My cellphone isn't working; nobody will know where we are. And shouldn't we get Kevin first?"

"Maybe not, Veronica. Who knows what's going on; this looks really weird." Betty shook her head. "I think we might even have better odds of getting the full story without Kevin."

That could very well be true.

They followed Joaquin's distinctive hard hat through the crowd of people who were trying to help - or trying to find people - or just rubbernecking with their phones out to record the chaos.

Joaquin was leading them in the opposite direction from the Whyte Wyrm and Serpent territory. That made some sense.

But then a larger hard-hatted figure who was also covered in dust appeared in the crowd and grabbed Joaquin's arm. And suddenly they were changing course from wherever Joaquin had been heading.

"Is he being _kidnapped_?" Veronica glanced at her phone again, but she still had no service.

"We can't lose them. Maybe he's here under duress; maybe the kidnappers forced him to do something involving the explosion," Betty speculated. "Eventually our phones will work again, V. We can keep our distance, but we need to make sure we don't lose him. Either of them."

**00000**

"Jonathan?" Brand frowned down at the unconscious man he'd dug out of the rubble, who was being treated by paramedics but had not been transported from the site; he was remarkably stable, all things considered, and they hoped he'd wake up soon and be able to give the police and FBI information that they could use right away. "He's not a demo guy. Is he?"

"He has keys." Fred Andrews had been brought to the FBI's command center at the site of the disaster in order to identify his employee. He was shaken up and seemed grateful that Brand (or maybe just someone he knew) was there as well. "They must have forced him to give them access to the building - and the explosives - though I'm not sure how they managed to set everything up early. It's a huge job."

"They didn't. The demo team did that yesterday, after hours. Apparently they received texts that they thought were from you," Agent Quinn explained what they'd learned so far. "They left the school late last night, and Jonathan must have been the last one inside Southside High. Whoever added the accelerant and made the changes to the explosives must have used his access and familiarity with the site to accomplish all of this."

Fred looked like he might be going into shock. Brand handed him a cold water bottle and he pressed it to his forehead. "Why didn't the demo team confirm any of this with me?"

"They thought that they did. It was probably spoofed all the way around." Agent Quinn looked sympathetic. "This is one of the downsides of technology. Have you been able to account for all of your employees at this point?"

"Yes. At least, everyone has been seen by someone I've spoken with." Fred made eye contact with Brand, who had been the one to vouch for Archie's safety. Fred had not laid eyes on FP either, but the crew that had been with him on the roof said that FP had been with them when they got out - only barely ahead of the blast. Brand had been relieved to hear that news as well. "Jonathan was the only one who was unaccounted for."

"That's good." Agent Sarah nodded encouragingly. "You run a tight ship; that's going to help. We're going to find the people who took advantage of that and tried to hurt a lot of innocent people."

"If the crew had still been on the roof, they might all have been killed." Fred looked even more stricken as he thought about how close that had come to being the case.

Brand thought about that from a slightly different angle, though. "FP was up there. The building blew just after he got out?"

"Brand, you can't seriously think-,"

"There's such a thing as gang loyalty, Fred. I'm not speculating beyond that right now, but a Serpent might have waited for their leader - former leader - to be outside of the worst of the blast radius. Maybe." Brand frowned. "Or he could have been the intended target and they just barely missed their window."

"One or the other, yes," Sarah gave him an irritated look. "Either FP Jones was the target or he wasn't."

"I'm saying that maybe he was at the _center _of this, either way," Brand shot back. "Try to keep up, Quinn. Where is he now?"

Agent Quinn frowned at his tone and words, but seemed chastened and no longer angry. She shrugged in response to Brand's question.

"Looking for Jughead, maybe?" Fred shrugged as well.

"Let's hope not. I've got Jones waiting in a car with Clark. FP could wander for hours and never find that hideous excuse for a vehicle."

"No; we should check there," Fred disagreed. "FP's like a bloodhound when he's motivated. And he probably doesn't know that Jughead's safe, since you got the boys out of there so quickly. Thank you again for that, by the way. I know Mayor McCoy isn't thrilled that you left her with the paramedics."

Brand shrugged. She'd been fine; a lot of other people had not been fine.

"Can I leave you in charge here, Agent Quinn?" Brand turned to Agent Sarah. He wasn't sure what the SOP was now that they had everyone working fairly efficiently to evacuate the scene and then start back to the resident agency.

"You can do whatever you want," Agent Sarah replied with a small smile. "You are officially outside of the chain of command, Special Agent Davies. Thank you for the help here; we should be fine on our own while you locate your asset."

"Great. Let's check it out, Fred."

They set off at a jog toward the lot where Clark had parked.

**00000**

**Yay! Things are coming together... :-D Again, do let me know if anything gets too confusing. I'll be looking forward to any and all reviews while I am hard at work on Chapter Seventeen - and enjoying a lovely break and exciting travels! :)**

**I hope you also have a wonderful week!**

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	17. Chapter 17

**Happy almost New Year! Here's a chapter! :-D**

**I loved hearing all of your reactions, Living Lucid Dream. It's definitely a lot to process, and I grinned when I read that you zeroed in on Clark's online training. It is very him. :-D Poor Jug, yes; we'll hopefully get more information soon on how worried they should be. I also loved hearing your reaction to Joaquin's reappearance (yay!) and I'm looking forward to hearing what you think as things play out with B, V, and the hard-hatted figure... and I'm excited about more clarity coming - and perhaps your instinct being correct about the prologue scene! :-D**

**Guest, it was so great to hear you are enjoying, and I loved your list of questions! I celebrate Christmas, so it was like a gift and also a wish list of questions to have answered by the end (I'm on it! :-D ), and you had such insightful observations. You always catch the details, and I was particularly impressed by your analysis of Donn's hurrying, his cursing, and then the abductors knowing that at least one was not FBI - and how those details come together to be odd... we'll see how many I can answer in this chapter. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Clark's car was not empty, but Brand immediately wished that it had been. Three cellphones, each one more damaged than the last, sat on the center console.

"Where is my son?" Fred lost any vestiges of the shock he'd been fighting through. He was suddenly sharply focused.

Agent Williams was climbing into an agency vehicle. Brand hurried to flag her down. "Wait, Williams. Where's the intern? Both of the interns, for that matter. They were supposed to wait here for me."

"They went to the field office with the SAC. Everyone was notified, Davies." Williams gave him a disdainful look. "And let the record show that Clark was _not _on those orders, but he went too. Something no doubt having to do with your unilateral decision to take him off of errands earlier today?"

Brand ignored her rhetorical question. His mind was racing, and Fred was grabbing his shoulder with all of the fury and panic of someone who had just been told that his only son had probably disappeared with a violent, psychotic criminal who possessed a badge and a security clearance.

"Was anyone else with them?"

"As in… someone without a clearance? Going to the field office?" Williams looked like she thought Brand was stupid.

"Yeah. There was." A man sitting in the passenger seat of the vehicle chimed in. "One of the construction workers was with them. He gave me his hard hat."

Fred's grip tightened painfully.

"They're together, Fred. With a federal agent who is on the clock. We'll get someone to pick them up from the field office," Brand said firmly. "This makes sense - mostly - and they've only been gone for a little while."

They still had no idea where FP was, or why Donn had taken Jones - let alone Clark, who was following orders, but still - and Archie's inclusion was just plain weird.

But they had their first step: get in touch with the field office.

**00000**

Veronica was starting to get more into the challenge of following Joaquin, but Betty was becoming increasingly reluctant as they got further away from the crowds that were at the edge of the disaster that the Southside High speech had become.

"Come on," Veronica urged her best friend. "We can't let Joaquin disappear again."

"We're a lot more likely to be noticed here." Betty tried to hold Veronica back. "We could accidentally tip them off that they've been seen, and then we might never find them again."

"We can actually _help _this time." Veronica gave Betty a determined look. "A little risk is worth it. And neither of them have turned around once - or slowed down."

They _were _moving quickly, and it was increasingly obvious that the taller man was forcibly hustling Joaquin away from Southside High. That seemed to support Betty's theory about Joaquin having been kidnapped - held captive - and forced against his will to participate in the attack at the speech.

The two men stopped at a run-down storefront that had concrete steps leading down to a basement-level entrance. Betty grabbed Veronica to stop her forward progress when it was clear that the two were about to reverse direction in order to go down the steps - and they would both be facing the girls when they did so.

And then they both gasped when they were - thankfully - not spotted, but the maneuver allowed them to recognize the taller man.

It was FP Jones.

**00000**

Alice and Kevin had seen Veronica and Betty start following two construction workers; one was clearly FP Jones, but they did not recognize the other from the back, particularly since both were covered in dust and dirt from the explosion.

"How much do you want to bet Veronica and Betty overheard something?" Alice gave Kevin an excited look.

"Are you sure that you're ready to put your money where your mouth is?" Kevin gave her a serious look, but it was approving. "I mean, okay, you just took Sweet Pea _apart_. That was amazing; respect. It's hard to believe he thinks the Serpents had nothing to do with blowing up Southside High, and you make a solid argument."

Alice's exact words had been 'the Serpents' message is obvious: they're telling the Northside to choke and die on their plans for reshaping the Southside.'

Sweet Pea had in fact choked - and then sputtered - in response to her phrasing, and the conversation had devolved speedily from there.

"But Alice, this is another level, especially if Mr. Jones is doing everything that you think he is. Someone just _blew up the highschool_. The Southside is not a place to make enemies." Kevin smirked darkly as he continued: "Or friends, for that matter."

"I am totally and completely sure, Kevin. Let's go." Alice started striding after Betty and Veronica. Provided those two did not lose their quarry, she and Kevin should run basically zero risk of losing the girls and would soon be able to find out what was going on.

They were not far behind them when they saw the girls recognize FP. Kevin gasped with recognition as well: "That's… Alice, that's Joaquin. He's alive. He cut his _hair_."

Alice patted Kevin's shoulder. "Well, we'll have to take the bad with the good. And if FP's accosting him, he may still be on the right side of all this. He might even have had to go into hiding to avoid all of the carnage that Mr. Jones is instigating."

Kevin did not reply. He simply stared at the door that the two Serpents had disappeared through.

"What do you want to do?" Alice asked. "We can wait and then follow them further. We could confront them, but I don't know if that would be safe."

"I…" Kevin stopped. "Let me think. I kind of want to go home. Be done. He's obviously fine, and what - nothing? Not even a text? For all this time? But…" Kevin bit his lip, "I might never see him again if I walk away now."

Alice nodded. That might well be true.

Betty and Veronica appeared to be waiting.

They waited too.

**00000**

When the vehicle came to a halt, Archie initiated their hands joining up once more. Both he and Clark were shaking again, though not as badly as when they'd first been grabbed from the van.

Then the door swung open beside them, and both of them began shaking a _lot_ harder than they had been.

Jughead figured he had the advantage of having been through worse - though it was also a disadvantage, since he was very afraid of this situation taking a turn and becoming more like those experiences - but at this point he was certain that the painkillers were making him unnaturally calm.

After all, Clark was older and had both training and some experience, but he was quivering and had made a very compelling case for their lives being worth very little if these people had blown up the school and killed people in the process.

Jughead should be having a panic attack. This was so weird.

Brand had never actually said to Jughead that fear was a tool (perhaps because a lack of fear had never been his problem) but Jughead could tell that he was missing an edge that he normally had. Maybe an alertness.

His lack of agitation was really starting to worry him.

"Good boys." Jughead was closest to the open door, and he thought of Brand even more when a hand patted his head through the hood. "Leave those bags alone and you'll last a whole lot longer."

They'd made the right call leaving the hoods in place, then. That was nice to have confirmed.

Clark was shaking even harder, though.

Oh, right - that was officially their first threat. Jughead was definitely slower on the uptake than usual.

They were cut loose from the anchors and then tugged out of the vehicle; Jughead was able to gain his feet easily. When he was steered forward by one shoulder the others must also have been guided along.

They seemed to arrive at their destination after only a couple of minutes, and the remaining zip ties were cut - and then they were tied into wooden chairs before their hoods were finally removed.

Jughead stayed quiet and did not resist, but he tried to recall and implement everything that Brand had taught him to ensure that he'd be able to slip his bonds later. It already felt promising, and when the hood was whipped off of his head, almost with a flourish, he could tell in a glance that he'd likely be able to make short work of the knots holding Archie and Clark in their chairs as well.

Hopefully they'd be left alone.

Archie and Clark were looking around, and even though they were all blinking in the light, it was dim in the windowless room and their eyes adjusted quickly.

The masked men left, locking the door audibly behind them.

They were not even gagged. They could get free. This might turn out okay.

Whatever it was.

"I can't believe this is happening on American soil. Do you think we've been renditioned? Do you think we're outside of the nation's borders _right_ _now_?"

Apparently Clark was really starting to lose it. Jughead had a lot of sympathy, and Clark had actually done great so far, despite being very obviously upset - but they needed to shut the panic down now.

"Oh my God, calm down." Archie had less patience and jumped in before Jughead could try to reassure his coworker. "First off: we were nowhere near a border, and we drove for, like, fifteen minutes at most. We'll probably be home in time for dinner. Right, Jughead? Brand will come for us."

Archie was trying to project confidence, and he was definitely irritated, but his voice was shaking - and based on his facial expression, he was painfully scared. "He's terrifying when someone gets between him and Jughead. Think Chuck Norris, but with, like, anger management issues. I bet his dad will come, too, and bring his shotgun. And Trigger, Jug's attack dog."

"Are you just making stuff up? Jones, is he making stuff up?" Clark looked confused, and maybe slightly less panicked, but also like he might be gearing up to be angry with Archie.

"We might be able to get out on our own," Jughead ignored the questions. "Give me fifteen minutes - maybe twenty - and I'll be free. Then I can untie you both and we'll figure this out. Some of these guys know what they're doing, but definitely not all of them. We can improvise all kinds of weapons with what we've got right in this room. And Clark, I think we can safely assume that we have not been renditioned."

"What, now you're suddenly MacGyver?"

"I know; Jug really commits to that smokescreen of incompetence, doesn't he?" Archie smiled wanly at his own teasing words, even though his voice was still shaky. "We should escape on our own. I like that plan. Even though we probably can't rappel this time - which was awesome - Jughead's right. This room is full of useful stuff."

When Archie looked around the room some more, though, his expression became increasingly fearful. "Um, hey, Jughead... good news and bad news. It looks like we've literally got everything that we need to make explosives. So maybe we shouldn't try anything after all. Or maybe... I guess that could be an improvised weapon?"

"_What_? No way," Jughead didn't stop working on his bonds, but he glared a warning over at Archie. "I barely passed my Chemistry final. Brand refuses to teach me anything. I cannot make explosives."

"Dude, not what I meant. You think I'd trust you near anything resembling cooking? You've barely mastered chicken," Archie shook his head mournfully and his smile was stronger this time. He seemed to be calming down as he focused on this new idea.

"Bu-ut, guess what I did this week - and most of last week. Do _not _tell my dad, or he'll fire all the demo guys." Archie thought about that for a moment. "Which might not be a bad thing, actually."

"How am I the one with the least expertise in this situation?"

"Yeah, where did you get this guy, Jug? Worst FBI agent ever." Archie shot Jughead an aggrieved look. "You couldn't get us kidnapped with someone useful? Like Brand?"

Jughead mirrored the aggrieved look back at Archie. "Hey, it is not my fault that your internship is apparently way cooler than mine. I can't believe you learned how to build a bomb. I learned how to make _coffee_."

"Well, mostly. The detonation stuff they obviously did without me, but I think that's the easy part." Archie nodded once, even though his nervous expression had returned in full force. "Piece of cake. Right?"

"Okay, I take it back. Now I'm _hoping_ we've been renditioned." Clark was wide-eyed.

"I hope you don't talk to the bomb squad with that mouth," Archie retorted. "I'm gonna need a field promotion so that I outrank this guy, Jug."

"You got it." Jughead smirked. "I'll untie you first, Special Agent Andrews."

"Awesome."

They fell silent while Jughead worked.

"Jones?" Clark seemed to be thinking something over.

"Yeah?" Jughead was trying to work a knot free - and his fingers slipped once again.

"When has Archer seen Special Agent Davies being 'terrifying'?"

"Oh. Um." Jughead figured it really didn't matter a whole lot at this point, so he might as well spill the beans. "Special Agent Davies is my godfather. I'm sorry I didn't say anything; it's the whole nepotism thing, and it was already so awkward-,"

"Oh. My. Lands." Clark looked like he might be about to have a coronary. Or a stroke. "You know him personally? You've - this whole time?"

Well, he wasn't panicking. That was something.

And then the whole thing clicked for him.

"Wait... are you _Jonas Davies_?" Clark was gaping. "Is _that _why you're freaking MacGyver? And - oh God - is that why you keep calling Special Agent Davies '_Brand'_?"

"Jughead," Archie's tone was scolding, but he was clearly fighting laughter, "did you _lie _to all of your friends at the FBI? And seriously, how did you go two minutes without Brand petting your hair? Don't tell me he does that to everyone at work."

The knot dissolved smoothly in his hands; one down. "Trying to focus here." Jughead shot them both a look. "My name isn't Jonas anymore. But yeah, Brand and I worked together in Toronto."

"And they live together now," Archie contributed oh-so-helpfully. Jughead knew he should just be grateful that neither were panicking, but this was not how he'd pictured explaining to Clark about Brand.

Clark's eyes were bugging out. "You live together?"

"No. He's staying in our guest bedroom. We don't live together most of the time. He owns a place in Canada."

Clark glared. "You made me look like an idiot. Repeatedly."

"If it helps, Brand keeps telling me to be more like you," Jughead offered. The next knot was going more easily. This was good. "He really likes you. That time you were going to break me out with a cheese knife was a top ten moment; he still talks about that."

"I thought we were wingmen."

"We are!" Jughead objected. "And now we're going to escape and I'll tell Brand how you came along to protect me, and he's going to want to, like, adopt you."

"Because he _does _that with his protégés. Which you know from firsthand experience." Clark shook his head slowly.

Archie snorted at that.

"That is not what I meant." Jughead felt the next knot give way. "And I'm almost free. In case you were wondering."

"So _Brand _is probably freaking out because his roommate-,"

"We don't share a room."

"His adopted godson, who did a world tour with him-,"

"One interview, Clark."

"The teenager he _gave his last name_ _to_, personally trained and worked alongside for _months _while undercover, and - oh wow, this makes so much more sense now - just fought a _violent gang_ over, is missing. Kidnapped. Is the National Guard coming after us, or will he go straight for the Marines? Navy SEALs?"

"Now he gets it." Archie smirked when Jughead glared at him. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Clark. Jug can do pretty much anything and Brand just lines up safety nets for him. He jumps and Brand catches him. Every single time."

"Untrue." Jughead glowered. Another knot went. He would be able to slip out of the ropes in just another minute or two.

"Yeah, okay. Your dad went after you that one time in Michigan."

"Why did you get beaten up at school?" Clark was suspicious as he reexamined what Jughead had told him over the past weeks through the lens of this new information. "Was that… something else?"

Archie suddenly looked properly abashed. And scared again. Jughead understood that, too; it really was a lot more terrifying to recall that Brand was human and would not automatically get here in time to prevent them from getting hurt - or worse.

"See, Archie? Not every time. And I already told you, Clark. I don't know." Jughead felt one more knot loosen, and then he twisted his wrists free. "I'm out. Let me get my ankles; Archie's next. And then I'm gonna need some help. They took away my pain pills and my ribs are not happy."

Clark frowned.

Archie looked even more worried.

"Guys, we're getting out of here. I'm still Macgyver. I just need some aspirin." Jughead managed a reassuring smile and then slowly and painfully reached down toward his ankles to untie them. "A whole lot of aspirin."

**00000**

FP had caught just one glimpse of Joaquin DeSantos and moved to follow.

Jughead had been on his feet - talking to Brandon - when last he saw him. They'd even had filtration masks before virtually anyone else had them within the blast zone. Davies was on it.

Joaquin on the other hand had not just been missing; he'd been involved in the first attack meant for Jughead, the one FP had sprung with Trigger, and the odds that Joaquin had zero knowledge of, or connection to, the more successful attack on him at Riverdale High seemed low.

It was also bizarre that Joaquin was dressed like he worked with Andrews Construction. Something was very wrong with this picture.

And this was why FP was being paid the big bucks, after all, and why the FBI made taken steps to make sure he'd been assigned to work Southside High. Because he had the ability to spot these things and make these connections - and act on them.

Now he was ushering Joaquin into a basement establishment that he knew well, and hustling him quickly past the secondhand goods for sale on every surface. The complex of back rooms was where the money was made in this business. As DeSantos well knew.

They took one of the small conference rooms and FP locked them in together. Here anything could happen. Nobody would interfere, and nobody would see or hear anything.

"Well, fancy seeing you working for Andrews Construction." FP gestured expansively to the four chairs around a small table. "Have a seat. We should catch up, DeSantos. It's been a few months since we were together in Michigan, and - what - a week or more since you went missing?" FP waited for Joaquin to sit and then he joined him at the table.

"Come to that, your disappearing act wasn't all that long after you jumped me. Not that I hold that against you; I'm very grateful that it was me." FP knocked lightly on the table for emphasis and Joaquin looked increasingly uneasy. "Not that it bought Jughead much of a reprieve. Did you know that it was a pack of Serpents not much younger than you that went after him at school? He's lucky to be alive. You know what they say about young serpents who can't control their venom."

Joaquin's eyes were trained on the floor.

"So... let's start with why you've got one of Andrews' hard hats on and you're covered with dust from an explosion you shouldn't have been anywhere near."

Joaquin glared up at FP then. "I had business there. And I don't owe you an explanation."

"That's not how I see it."

"Too bad."

"It sure is." FP folded his arms. "Because my word is law in these parts. Maybe you've been too far underground to hear that."

"I heard," Joaquin spat the words. "But I also know a lot more than you give me credit for. Traitor."

FP didn't blink. "It's not turning traitor to take care of what's mine. Ask around, Joaquin; you'll find out quickly enough that I stepped back from the Southside - but I didn't step back from any individual. In fact, I seem to remember being consulted on a minor financial dispute between you and Mustang."

Joaquin blanched. He'd known that situation had potential - could have gotten out of hand - but it had simmered down on its own. Or so he'd thought.

"That's not a threat, Joaquin." FP's expression went from firm to concerned when Joaquin reacted so strongly to his words. "And it's true that I haven't been around so much. Things changed, and it was time that I bow out."

"So you're sitting with me right now because of Jughead?" Joaquin had recovered from his shock and his tone was deeply sarcastic. "That sounds about right. I mean, come on - Southside High is bombed to the pavement right in front of you, and your only question is who bruised your kid?"

"Oh, I've got more than one question. We can start with this one, though." FP leaned forward on his elbows. "Do you need help? Protection? Is someone leaning on you, DeSantos? I can get you out of the Southside. Today."

Joaquin had arranged his features into a sneer of disdain over FP's insistence on protecting Jughead to the exclusion - detriment - of everyone else. But FP's words stopped him cold.

"What?"

"Are you under pressure? Duress?" FP gestured to Joaquin's clothing. "Someone dressed you like this and put you in harm's way. Maybe whoever you had 'business' with doesn't much care about your health. And the way I see it, you either disappeared because you needed to, or else somebody forced you. Either way, I'm thinking you might need a safe place to wait things out and some eyes on the situation that you can trust. What's it gonna be?"

Joaquin seemed to need a few moments to process all of that.

And then he met FP's eyes and seemed to make a decision. He slumped in his chair.

"It's… I'm the real traitor." Joaquin braced both hands against his forehead and leaned forward on his elbows on the table. "I messed up. Bad. There is no safe place anymore."

"Now that's nonsense. There's always a safe place, DeSantos. We'll figure it out." FP had no idea what he was promising, but it seemed likely to be true enough. He made his tone reassuring. "Now, what do you mean, saying you're a traitor? Doing what you have to in order to survive doesn't-,"

"I'm playing three sides," Joaquin interrupted, closing his eyes as if in pain and blurting out the words. "And I've played traitor to them all. I just wanted to get paid by them all, but it's… too deep." Joaquin met FP's confused gaze with a tortured look of his own. "I betrayed everyone. There's nobody left."

FP considered this. He understood that the Serpents and the splinter faction were almost certainly two of the 'sides.' The third one eluded him, though. Unless… "Davies approached you?"

"Donn."

FP wondered if the world had stopped moving because this was so shocking - or because the implications were so overwhelmingly far-reaching in their potential.

He had a foothold. He would not put Joaquin at risk, and he'd do everything in his power to protect his former - literal - partner in crime, but FP saw endless possibilities spooling out in front of him with just that one word.

"There are still safe places. We'll get you to one." FP would start there. "Which of the three 'sides' sent you to Southside High to see it brought to its knees?"

"That's part of what's so tricky." Joaquin shrugged helplessly. "It was all three."

**00000**

**Okay. I answered some questions. I miiiiight have raised more questions in the process... but we're moving forward! Your reviews have been so, so encouraging as life has been unbelievably crazy. Thank you muchly for any and all notes - and thank you for reading!**

**I hope you have a wonderful start to the week!**

**-Button**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen! And it's 2020! Happy New Year, everyone. :-D**

**Thank you for the wonderful review, Living Lucid Dream! I think you are completely right that Kevin's first instinct is natural, but probably not entirely fair - Joaquin's been through quite a bit, and I think it's going to haunt folks for a little while. And yay for the prologue showing up - and Clark finally learning more about Jug and Brand! :) FP does remain awesome, I agree; I'm really loving highlighting more of his positive role with the Serpents in this story. :) I am very happy with your description of tangled but interesting, too! Let me know if it gets too confusing, but I'm finding that exposition is showing up here and there, even if nobody has all of the information yet. :)**

**Thank you for the lovely review as well, Guest! I love answering questions, and more miiiiight be answered in this chapter. :) Agent Williams is a tough one; I'm not sure where her arc is headed just yet, but I'll be interested to see. Poor Kevin! That's going to be complicated, too. Good observations about the lack of fear/teenager moments; I had some back and forth while I was writing that, because Jughead's on strong drugs and Archie's gotten a rosy perspective on prior events from his very slight distance. I think Clark is the only one having a very logical fear response. I'm with you - I've been worried about the 'left behind' Serpents even though FP made the right decision in focusing on Jug during the last few stories. He's hard to replace!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Sweet Pea figured it might be time to make his first phone call to the number he'd been given by Davies.

Because Alice was racing headlong into danger, and he couldn't think of anything that he could do to stop her. He could only mitigate the danger the best way he knew how. The _only _way he knew how.

The first step was getting to where he had cell service once more. After that, he'd probably need to send Davies a message, and name some names - those of the seven remaining guys who had taken their excuse to go wilding and jumped FP Jones' son and beaten him nearly to death - in order to get what he wanted.

And what he wanted would not be easily accomplished: Alice safe. Protected.

If she would not stay where it was already safe and protected, Sweet Pea would maybe have to make the whole world safer and more protected for her. It was a big job, and not one he'd ever considered before, but something about Alice made it seem not only possible - but mandatory.

Sweet Pea had to step up. And, having seen the pace with which Alice had set off into the Southside with Kevin Keller, he needed to step up fast.

**00000**

Brand was pacing in a tight circle, looking from his cellphone to the agent in front of him. Fred envied him the ability to - apparently - burn off some of his agitation by moving.

Fred felt like he might lose it if he moved any more than was necessary, let alone spoke.

"So Donn's okay?" Brand demanded more than asked.

"Relatively speaking. He's on his way to the hospital to be checked out, but that's mostly a precaution."

"And he claims to have no clue who just carjacked him and took two FBI interns and an underage construction worker hostage?"

"How many times have you been carjacked, Special Agent Davies?" The agent - Agent Novak - gave Brand a patronizing look. He'd been sent from the field office to brief Brand and Fred in person at Southside High.

"I've been the one doing the jacking more than once, and they knew who I was _every single time_." Brand leaned toward Agent Novak and there was an unmistakable threat in his posture. "Nobody wanted that van. Let's be real."

"In the Southside, even that van-"

"Is worthless. Not to mention identifiable. They were pulling an intern out of the van before they even went for Donn?" Brand shook his head and looked at his cell phone again. "No. No good. And even you should know that the FBI can't be losing people who have clearances; it's bad for business. We need more people on this."

"How many would you suggest?" Novak turned cuttingly sarcastic. "I'm standing here with you right now, so that's one, and Southside High is - how shall I say it? - a _priority_. So… how much longer am I going to need to stand here, Special Agent Davies?"

Brand's phone lit up with an incoming text. Maybe several. They'd finally regained cell service.

"Not much longer, Novak." Brand began to read the texts swiftly. "Okay; it looks like we've got options. We could work this with Donn, while he gets us more details from the hospital. We could work this with my contact, who's just given me a slew of names connected with an explicitly anti-FBI attempt on the life of one of the two missing interns. Or we could work this with my intelligence asset, who has a missing person in custody who is actively rolling on - oh, look, Special Agent _Donn_ as well as two additional sets of perps." Brand held up his phone with a smirk. "What's your pleasure?"

"Everyone warned me that you'd pretend to spin straw into gold." Novak folded his arms.

"Hey, even I'm impressed this time." Brand shrugged. "Normally I'd waste time getting my full credit from you and whatever fools said that to you, but we've got a situation. Got a preference? No? Then let's work with my intelligence asset. He knows the territory better than anyone, and I'm thinking location's going to be more important than identities right now."

Fred nodded. He really didn't care about the who or why at the moment - the 'where' was most pressing.

"Oh, look, it's two against one - and it's the two who are covered with blast debris from Southside High. You are overruled and commandeered. Let's see what we've got, Novak." Brand was dialing. He hesitated, though, and held up his phone mid-dial. "Quick poll: do you think FP actually meant 'barley' or this is a typo?"

"Barely Used. It's a known front in the Southside." Novak shot him a look.

"Good. Not a bar, then."

"Not a bar."

Fred wasn't sure how Brandon managed to concern himself with so many things at once. It didn't seem to be slowing him down, so Fred didn't add yet another concern by criticizing him for sparing even a single thought for FP's sobriety right now, but Fred was more than ready to remind Brandon of their top priority the first moment he did seem distracted.

Brand finished dialing. "FP. What exactly have you stumbled into, old man?"

**00000**

"Fred Andrews is with Davies and Novak?"

"His son was involved in the carjacking. Apparently they have a lead they're chasing down, and nobody thought to give the order to keep Andrews here."

"It's really not his day, huh?" Agent Quinn sighed. She had taken a strong liking to Fred during the brief time they'd spent together, and she'd hoped that everyone would return from the parking area together, happily reunited with family and handler.

"You talking about Davies or Andrews?" Agent Williams responded darkly.

"Andrews. Obviously. Because this is definitely Davies' day." Agent Quinn gave Williams a level look. "He's cleaning up - we've got backup on their way from out of state to help us deal with the situation, and all they're asking for is more information from the guy who tackled the mayor and got her to safety, found Jonathan in the rubble and dug him out single-handedly, located a missing person with his asset, _and_ got names for all seven of the unknown perps in that violent anti-FBI crime at Riverdale High. All within an hour of a bomb going off right next to him."

"So, what, you think he set all this up? He's some kind of glory hound?" Williams' grimace and tone seemed to indicate that she'd prefer that narrative to most anything else.

"I think that he's not going to see any of that as an accomplishment, let alone the coup that it is, if anything happens to the interns." Agent Quinn frowned. "I know I'll have trouble seeing this as anything other than a disaster if we don't recover them safe and sound."

The death toll so far from the blast was holding at zero, and everyone had begun hoping - quietly, so as not to jinx anything - that the number would not change. If there were no deaths, then they had just dodged far more than the proverbial bullet.

Even the man who had been chained inside to die would make a full recovery; he had not developed compartment syndrome since he'd been dug out so swiftly, and everyone hoped that he would regain consciousness soon and be able to give them more information about the bombing.

Another Special Agent Davies accomplishment.

"Well, it's too bad that this construction company's done for." Williams looked around at the people who were now organized and moving with purpose on the scene. "They'll never get another bid. Not in this lifetime."

"Really, Chloe? Have you heard a soul blame Fred Andrews?" Agent Quinn heard her voice harden. "Everyone knows this happened in _spite _of his oversight. I've never seen anyone so well-liked by an entire community. The fact that we could have had missing - maybe even dead - people in a collapsed building, and yet the mayor was inquiring about Andrews' health and his family instead of pointing fingers? That's astonishing. The community is rallying to stand by him already, and actively defending him against accusations that may never even materialize. Because apparently everyone believes in Fred Andrews."

"Weird town."

"It's sweet." Sarah's tone was chiding. "They know their neighbors. At least they know this neighbor pretty well."

"Well, someone must not like him. His son was taken?"

"That's what they think at the field office, at least so far." Agent Quinn's frown deepened. "Special Agent Donn's injured and in the hospital, but he's directing resources fairly aggressively at the carjacking and possible abduction. Like I said, Davies and Novak are supposedly following up with an intelligence asset about the situation."

"I'll give you three guesses who finds the interns first." Williams raised an eyebrow.

"And the first two don't count?" Agent Quinn gave her a tight smile. "Is Sheriff Keller around? It's been a little while; I want to touch base with him again."

"I saw him with McCoy when I was on my way here. I'll let him know you want to speak with him." Agent Williams gave a decisive nod. "And, just for the record... Andrews isn't the only one running a tight ship, Quinn."

"Thanks, Williams."

**00000**

Jughead was working to untie Clark. It was slow going; his ribs were hurting more, and it was seeming likely that the pain - not just from his ribs, though they were taking a decisive lead - was going to get a lot worse as the painkillers continued to leave his system.

He was definitely more alert as he came down from the painkillers, too, but Jughead was beginning to think that the tradeoff was not helpful after all. The pain was already so strong that the prospect of it continuing to worsen was starting to scare him.

Archie was investigating the storage room and the materials stacked along the walls.

"How thick do you think these walls are?" Archie asked, laying a hand on the cinder blocks in front of him. "They'll expect us to try the door, but we might have a better shot if we go out another way. It could buy us a minute or two, and that would be huge."

Jughead ignored Clark's sharp intake of breath over the idea of blasting through a wall and not just popping open a locked door. It sounded insane to him too, but Jughead knew that he would be moving the most slowly of the three. If Archie thought they needed the advantage and could get out safely in that direction, he wasn't going to fight him. "No idea. You're the one in construction, man. What's your best guess?"

"Well, we can shape the charge and just… overdo it a little. I think our worst case scenario is detonating something and not making it all the way out." Archie shot a nervous glance toward the door, but they had not heard any sounds since they'd been left. It had not been a particularly long time, either, so they probably had the luxury of thinking through whatever they decided to attempt.

"Shape it?" Jughead had an idea of what that meant, but not a clue how they could direct the force of the blast without access to more materials. Maybe a lot more materials.

"It's not actually that hard to do. I'll need some water, though, so nobody pees until I say so." Archie looked behind another tall stack of boxes. "Oh, whew. Never mind about the peeing; there's a utility sink back here. Anyone thirsty?"

They all were. Archie found an unopened box of Dixie cups along with the stacks of restroom supplies and filled several while keeping the flow barely above a drip. The pipes kicking in with any more noise would be a pretty obvious giveaway - or cause for a whole lot of alarm if anyone thought that there was a burst pipe or something.

"You doing okay, Jug? You look really pale." Archie turned to grab the chair he'd been tied into and slide it into position for Jughead. "At least sit down while you finish untying Clark."

"Thanks." Jughead sat gratefully. He was starting to feel nauseous from the pain as it steadily increased. "It didn't hurt this badly at school, right afterward."

"You were probably in shock. Or maybe the Southside High explosion banged you up." Archie's brow knit. "Just… stay sitting there. I'll get us out of this storage room, and then Clark and I can help you. Anyone know how to hotwire a car? Or is that just a Betty thing?"

"Jones, your friends-," Clark had barely spoken before Archie was cutting him off again with a sharp glance.

"Is that a no? And Betty's his girlfriend. Because, you know, Jug normally surrounds himself with actual useful people." Archie was getting more tense, probably in an attempt to fight back his fear, and he had lost even more patience when Clark had given him some input about the materials in the room that apparently had more to do with YouTube and Hollywood than reality. "And you are still tied up, so we can revisit the gag idea if you have any more bright-,"

"Leave Clark alone. He's doing his best to help, even though he's right that this is kind of an insane plan. We're going rogue together, so let's not kill each other before the bombers - or Brand, for that matter - have a chance to wring our necks for trying this," Jughead interrupted. He shook his head regretfully. "And I can _try_ to hotwire a car, but yeah, that's a Betty thing."

"And you're-," Archie winced when he saw his friend suddenly become even paler.

Jughead quickly turned away from Clark; the nausea was hitting him even harder. He grabbed a five-gallon pail that was within reach, and was relieved when he threw up very little. The rough spasms hurt his ribs quite a bit, though.

"I'm okay. I've had worse just from eating my own cooking," Jughead tried for a halfhearted joke as he waved Archie off when he brought him a Dixie cup of water and a roll of toilet paper from the piles of supplies. "I'm probably going to keep going downhill, though. Just focus on figuring out the shaped charge. Let's get out of here."

"On it." Archie surveyed the materials he'd gathered. It was time to start assembling. "Now, this is going to be a primary explosive. That means all of that TV stuff applies; don't drop it or breathe too heavily on it or whatever."

"The other kinds wouldn't be better?" Clark asked. He made a deeply frustrated face when Archie glared at him instead of answering.

"We need to actually be able to set it off, Clark," Jughead answered. His breathing hitched as his ribs twinged, but the knot he was focused on was loosening and somehow that knowledge made the nausea hold off - at least for the moment.

"Exactly. And I haven't done that part before, so we're going to need to think that through." Archie eyed Jughead worriedly, and then returned his attention to Clark. "You need a job to keep you productive, Clark. That hostage training says so, right? Come up with all of the ways we could safely set off a sensitive shaped explosive, preferably without being so close that we lose body parts if this turns out to have more kick than I'm aiming for."

Jughead nodded his approval to Archie for giving Clark a task.

Clark suddenly looked almost as pale as Jughead, though. "Uh, you want me to do _what_?"

"Just make a plan, Clark. And a couple dozen backup plans." Archie sighed. "We're going to be in the room when this thing goes off. Let's make sure that we're still in one piece by the time we're free."

**00000**

"Donn got to you, huh?" Brand was not yet sure what to make of Joaquin's role in everything, but he was curious about what the kid had to say for himself. He, Fred, and Novak had gotten into an agency vehicle for relative quiet and privacy, and been put on speakerphone. Video kicked in a moment later, and Brand was impressed by what he saw.

FP had found a fantastic spot to hole up in for the time being, and made it a temporary base of operations while he and Joaquin communicated with Brand, who was also managing contact with the field office.

Because Agent Donn was issuing orders from the hospital while he awaited discharge, and those Brand actually _did_ have to follow.

"Just getting my piece." Joaquin had gone straight back to the worst of his attitude as soon as Brand had called, and he was looking through the phone at Novak with rank hostility. "You gonna let these FBI guys roll in and do this to the Serpents, FP?"

Brand blinked. Apparently FP had not blown his cover in the process of cornering DeSantos, getting him to talk, and then filling in the FBI on his progress.

The man really did have a talent.

"He's going to let me talk if he wants to see his son alive again," Brand growled, hoping he wasn't overdoing it. This should jive with the legend, and he could follow FP's lead from there.

"We work together, Davies, or not at all." FP sounded calm and firm despite Brand being pretty sure that he was seeing panic in the older man's eyes. FP was dealing with the news of the carjacking amazingly well, but that might not last if they didn't have a firm lead very soon. "I'm not feeding you information and then sitting back. And get that other agent off the call."

"Done." Brand could work with that. He motioned Novak out of the vehicle. The agent must have noticed that FP's cover was miraculously intact, since he got out without protest.

"That's one of the guys." Joaquin began opening up as soon as the car door was closed once more. "He's on the take in the Southside."

"You mean to tell me that an FBI agent has gone undercover in the Southside during an active case involving the Serpents?" Brand wasn't sure that the accusation was off base, but he had a hard time picturing Novak doing much of anything that required initiative. He continued sarcastically: "That is _truly _shocking, DeSantos."

Joaquin looked unsure of himself then, which probably meant that was precisely what he'd seen - and it reassured Brand that he had no further evidence that something screwy was going on.

This was complicated, though; everything about undercover work lent itself to looking like something it was not, and the field office was obviously making plays in the Southside without fully apprising the resident agency that was supposedly taking the lead there.

Maybe Rose had sent Donn so that he'd have two independent teams working the case.

Brand had to take a quick breath when he finished that thought for himself: what Rose had _actually _done was arrange to have two independent teams racing to work the case. Competing.

Maybe Rose had decided that Brand was no longer his heir apparent. Maybe Donn had decided that being a sycophant to Brand was not getting him far enough fast enough, and he'd gone over his head.

Donn might be attempting to become the person over Brand's head with Rose, and not just his boss within the FBI.

There were a lot of implications if that was what was going on. Things would be a disaster very quickly if Rose was pitting FBI against FBI - in much the same way that the Serpents were falling apart now that they were split internally.

Donn might be actively sabotaging the investigation, and losing this race might leave Brand and the kid up a creek when it came to their arrangement with Rose.

Brand would come out fine, of course; he always did. Walking away from Rose's network after a transition of power to Donn would leave him with a powerful enemy, but he'd been there more than once before.

And Brand knew Donn a little too well for that to be an entirely one-sided threat.

Jones, on the other hand, was firmly at the epicenter of danger once again. And he was in no shape to find his way home without assistance. Hopefully Clark and Andrews were on their A games.

"What is it, Brandon?" FP asked when the silence had lengthened uncomfortably.

"DeSantos is right. Novak's out. It's just the people in this conversation from now on, and whoever else we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we can trust."

Fred looked from one to the other. "Including me?"

"Especially you." Brand nodded. "We're gonna need you to stay at Southside High while we move on things, Fred. Cell service is back up and running, and you've got the radios from Andrews Construction; stick close to Agent Sarah Quinn. Tell her you're working with me, and she should keep you apprised."

"That will never work." Fred gave Brand a skeptical look before he became unsure of himself. "Will it?"

"Doesn't matter - that's where we need you right now. If it works, great. If not, you get as much information as you possibly can and then get it to me." Brand thought for a moment. "I've got another Serpent who only talks to me - so he won't be feeding information to anyone else at the FBI -, and we can do the double duty of keeping the warrior queen and company out of trouble and making them useful by sending them to get the safer, more mundane intel."

Brand took a deep breath. "Now, who's behind what, Joaquin? Let's start with who carjacked Jones, Andrews, and Clark."

Joaquin hesitated. "So, uh, that might be my fault."

"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me-,"

"Brandon, shut up." FP's tone brooked no argument. "Just tell us what you know, Joaquin. We need to find them as soon as possible."

"Well, it started when Donn gave me information - contacts for people who could handle the demolition, and all that - to get the Serpent faction started on blowing up Southside High."

Fred's gasp was almost comically dramatic. Brand and FP exchanged unsurprised looks.

"When FP left the Southside on Monday," Joaquin continued, "the faction was able to get the rest of the Serpents in on the Southside High plan - without them knowing that the idea was coming from the Serpent traitors. Mostly because I helped get everyone onboard." Joaquin looked shame-faced and terrified over this admission.

"It wasn't hard. Since FP kind of... stormed off, everyone was desperate to do something to prove their loyalty to him; they ignored all of the obvious red flags. My one caveat was that Jughead had to have an extra set of eyes on him at all times," Joaquin sneaked a look at FP as if his leader's attachment to Jughead was tantamount to a brain-wasting disease, "because we'd be permanently dead in the water with FP if he got hurt. Also…" Joaquin's expression softened slightly, "I'm not stupid; I was in Michigan, and I know Donn's got some sort of creepy interest in him."

"So Donn's the one who fed this idea into the Southside," Brand echoed thoughtfully.

Joaquin nodded.

"And it was you who told the carjackers to get the kid back from Donn?" Brand mused.

FP's jaw had dropped progressively further as he listened to all of this. "You think Jughead's being held somewhere to keep him safe? Out of harm's way?"

"That depends on who has him. Has _them_," Brand amended, making eye contact with Fred.

"I literally only told the Serpents that I saw Jughead leave with Donn, Archie, and that FBI agent. Other people might have overheard, but that's as much as I know."

"Clark's not an agent. He's just an intern."

"Whatever."

"Yeah, sure, 'whatever' - that may turn out to be a target on his head, but '_whatever_.'" Brand frowned deeply. "And I cannot picture the Serpents pulling off the maneuver Donn reported - or what the police and witnesses described, if we're not trusting Donn's report. Any chance the demo guys Donn recommended to you were hired for a second job?"

"Anything's possible." Joaquin shrugged.

"We've got to move. We need to have officers round up the faction, but if they're the ones who ordered the carjacking... once they're out of contact with whoever's got those three, all bets are off. We can hope that they're model hostages and the carjackers have no trouble with them; that would buy us time to hunt them down, and Jones is definitely in rough enough shape for that to be possible…"

Brand's expression was grim. "But even if I were a betting man, I wouldn't put money on the kid keeping his head down. And if there's any possibility that Donn knows who the carjackers are-," Brand winced as he considered the possibility. "Nope. We've got to get there fast."

"Well, maybe we don't arrest the faction, then," FP interjected anxiously. "We'll - I don't know - _track _them or something. Monitor their communication. Whatever it is the FBI does."

"We don't hold all the cards in this investigation, FP. This may not end up being our decision. The best thing we can do right now is get moving. This is a race, and we're on the clock." Brand ran a hand through his hair. "Fred? Can you handle being our communications hub?"

Fred nodded, and then hesitated. "I don't have phone numbers for all the teenagers."

"FP does; I do." Brand frowned again as he thought that through. "They won't recognize your number, though, if you contact them. Can you impersonate FP over text message? You two can just swap phones. FP, you and Joaquin get ahold of a vehicle and then come pick me up on the east side of the school. Let's say Pickens Park to give us some space. We'll make the phone swap then."

"Um… sure." Fred agreed. "Should I get your number too, Joaquin?"

"No." Joaquin sounded horrified by the idea of Fred Andrews having his cell phone number.

"It's in my phone, Fred." FP shot Joaquin a quelling look. "Your plan been shut off, DeSantos?"

"No." This time Joaquin sounded resigned. "That number will still get me."

"This is _not_ a plan." Brand was emphatic. "This is us getting into position to make a plan. If we lose contact at any point, do not move forward. Wait patiently and gather information about possible locations for where the three are being held. That is _it_ until we reestablish contact. The only ones calling the shots are me and FP, and we'll be together. No communication breakdowns, no races, and absolutely no more splinter cells working at cross purposes. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded.

"Then let's go. DeSantos, you're with us until further notice."

'Further notice' proved to be directly outside the storefront.

**00000**

**Woo-hoo! More theories and insights. :-D I've officially become a sprawling writer (oops?), but I think a few more chapters will bring this all together. As always, I love your notes and I deeply appreciate your reading along!**

**I hope you have a wonderful weekend!**

**-Button**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen! Closer and closer... :)**

**Thanks for the great review, Living Lucid Dream! Sweet Pea is sensing the ground shifting, I agree - perhaps in more ways than one. He and Alice are fun to write together, and I think they've got a good arc in them. :) I'm so glad you liked Agent Quinn and Williams' conversation! Agent Quinn doesn't have the issues with Williams that Brand tends to, and I'll be interested in seeing that play out as the three work together more... And Archie had the stuffing knocked out of him so badly in BCBC (and then in DIAV he was so overwhelmed) - so he's due for coming into his own, and getting some confidence back. I'm looking forward to seeing him do more! Also, Donn's been on Brand's bad list since day one, so you're in good company with your assessment of him! And yes... I miiiight like cliffhangers. :-D Mostly I grew up on mysteries that had a cliffhanger of some sort at the end of every. single. chapter. So I lapse into that at times, particularly as the action takes over. **

**Thank you for the lovely review as well, Guest! Sweet Pea is stepping up, and I am also a little worried about what this will do to him in relation to the Serpents. Even if he keeps it quiet, he'll feel that distance from now on. We shall see what comes of it! I really enjoyed giving another view of Brand-as-FBI, too, and I am so glad you liked that scene. It's so easy to feel like "that's just Brand," but he's truly kicking butt. Archie's doing his best, but I agree - it is definitely not a safe undertaking, and there may be surprises yet. I hope you like this chapter! :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button **

**00000**

Veronica and Betty were surprised by how long they were left waiting outside of the storefront - and even more surprised when they were suddenly joined by Alice and Kevin.

"What are you doing here?" Kevin asked.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Veronica countered. "It looks to me like you followed us."

"Because you're doing something." Kevin folded his arms. "Did you know Joaquin was around? Working with Andrews Construction?"

"We literally just recognized him and followed him here, Kev," Betty quickly reassured him. "We would have told you if we knew more."

"Should we go in? Crash the party?" Alice asked.

"I don't know," Kevin bit his lip. "FP's doing all sorts of sketchy things, and Joaquin looked like he was awfully close to the explosion. You think they're holding some kind of... _meeting _in there? We should probably just call the police."

"Wait, what is Mr. Jones doing that's sketchy?" Veronica held up her hands as if to freeze the conversation until they cleared up some important details. "He has been a model citizen ever since Jughead got back from Toronto. Did something happen?"

Betty interjected firmly. "I think we can just go in. There is no way that Mr. Jones is doing anything illegal. He's worked so hard to get custody and keep things on track for Jughead."

"Uh," Alice looked from Veronica to Betty, "_actually_, he's kind of been on the brink of inciting an anti-police riot. An anti-FBI one, too."

"Really? And what is 'on the brink' supposed to mean?" Betty's tone was only more skeptical. "I'm telling you, FP Jones would never jeopardize-,"

"Hey, I think they're coming out." Kevin waved everyone back from the storefront.

"What are you all doing here?" FP bounded up the cement stairs when he saw the group assembled there. Joaquin seemed frozen in shock, but moved to follow a moment later.

"Never mind - you obviously followed us from Southside High." FP shook his head as if to clear it. "This might even be good; I've got work for you to do. Take Joaquin and go to _The Register_. I need some information, and your mother's vendetta against all things Southside has got to be good for something, Betty." Betty's eyes widened, even though FP shrugged apologetically - and it was true that her mother had been fairly obsessed with the Serpents over the years. "Got something you can take notes with?"

FP started issuing orders.

Veronica typed in her phone as quickly as she could; this sounded serious, and it wasn't complicated - but there was a lot of it.

Alice and Kevin looked a lot more resistant, but Mr. Jones ignored that.

"Keep me or Brandon posted as long as you have cell service. Who doesn't have my number?"

FP accepted phones and typed his number swiftly for anyone who needed it.

"What's going on?" Kevin demanded as soon as FP had finished giving orders.

"Joaquin will fill you in on everything you need to know. We're not entirely sure what's going on, but the main problem is that Jughead, Archie, and an intern named Clark went missing somewhere between Southside High and the field office."

"What? What happened to them?" Veronica asked anxiously.

"They were carjacked." FP waited patiently while everyone gasped and reacted. "They might be absolutely fine, but we're not sure where they ended up, and their cellphones are currently with Brandon. We just need to find them, fast, and getting that information-" FP gestured to Veronica's notes "-is our best bet."

Kevin and Alice exchanged looks.

"Alice-," FP began, finally addressing the fact that her expression bespoke trouble - and knowing what that was likely stemming from.

Alice cut him off. "FP, you can save it. Some other time, all right? Jughead's missing. You don't have to beg me to help; he's my friend." Alice looked him over disdainfully. "But really, what did you expect? Take some responsibility once in a while, because it would have been nice if you'd thought to get it together _before_ Jughead was left to figure his way out of whatever hole you've dug for him this time."

When Alice spun on her heel and strode away, FP was left gaping after her.

"We'll, uh, get you the information, Mr. Jones." Betty gave FP what she hoped was an encouraging nod, and then turned to follow Alice.

Kevin shot Joaquin a very uneasy look as he turned to follow, but the rest of the group fell in without further comment or complaint.

**00000**

Clark was free, Jughead was deteriorating, and Archie was pretty sure that he was not about to kill them all.

So it was a mixed bag.

But mostly they were hopeful, and it turned out that Clark had a useful skill after all: he was moving the sand and salt that was piled up in the storage room for use on sidewalks or parking lots, and constructing it into a protective barrier of sorts.

Clark was basically just filling five-gallon buckets, but Archie tried to make it sound more exciting and more vital; he'd seen FP do that countless times on job sites, and it had always worked well.

And, honestly, Archie did appreciate the backup; it wasn't like he'd ever done this before. The demo guys were chatty, and they'd enjoyed showing off, but ultimately Archie had not actually done any of the work. They also had not been working with primary explosives for the most part. But those were the fun ones to talk about, so those were the ones Archie had picked up the most information about.

It should work. Archie was fairly confident. And now they would have Clark's wall of sand and salt in case things turned out a lot more exciting than they should.

Archie shot a nervous look at Jughead, who was dry heaving into his bucket again as his pain continued to worsen. Archie looked away - and doubled down on encouraging Clark's enthusiasm. Clark needed some kind of serious spark to keep him going, because Jughead needed help. Soon.

"You okay, Jug?" Archie focused on his own task as he inquired; he was working on the shaping part, which was a little tricky with only the materials they had on hand.

There was no answer.

Archie looked over; Jughead was signing "okay" to him while he leaned over the bucket. He was breathing hard and sweating.

"Clark, hurry up with the sand. Jughead needs help. Get him some water and maybe... figure out how he can sit better or something." Archie's sense of assurance that Brand would come for them had waned, and his earlier fear had been steadily returning - and increasing. Having a job (a cool, interesting job) had helped, but seeing Jug in so much pain was making everything terrifying once again.

Archie wondered if they'd need to summon their own captors at some point, and basically turn themselves in to get him medical attention. Or at least a few pain pills, if Jughead could even keep them down at this point.

Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he needed to go to a hospital.

Archie wasn't sure how far he and Clark could carry Jughead. Brand had acted like he could just take away the pain pills the previous night, when they'd all been watching movies. Maybe this pain response wasn't normal and something was really wrong with Jug. Or maybe Brand had just been saying stuff. He liked to do that, and it was often hard to tell what was a joke and what he actually meant seriously.

Archie ran a hand through his hair.

When Clark finished filling his current bucket with sand and turned to check in with Jughead, offering him water and talking quietly to him, it was a little easier to focus on what Archie needed to do: get this bomb finished.

**00000**

The handoff at Pickens Park was smooth; Brand got into the car that FP had secured while FP and Fred swapped phones quickly through the window.

"Tell us anything you hear, even if you're not sure whether it's valuable," Brand reminded Fred. "Just get into the middle of things and stay there. Don't make it obvious that you're texting, though; they won't like that. If you run into trouble, you only talk to Agent Quinn. She's someone we can trust."

Fred nodded. "Let me know the moment you hear anything from - or about - Archie."

"We will," FP promised. They pulled away from the curb.

"FP, there's something I need to tell you. About Donn. We might have a rogue faction within the FBI that's… _racing_ us." Brand wasn't sure this was making any sense, but he had to do this without implicating Rose directly.

"Racing us to what? I thought that was what we were already doing, with the boys." FP was steering them in the general direction of the Whyte Wyrm. And somehow, miraculously, he wasn't questioning Brand's analysis.

"To shut down the Serpent's splinter faction."

"Oh." FP was quick to fill in the many blanks Brand was intentionally leaving. "So, what, we need to sift good information from bad information on all fronts, and not just about the boys - and both might be coming from the FBI? Do you think Donn planted the idea of blowing up Southside High to speed things up for exposing the splinter faction?"

"There might be a whole lot going on here," Brand replied. "So let's play this out as a hypothetical. If Donn is the root of all evil in the Southside, either directly or indirectly, here's another theory I'm considering: I give it maybe two percent odds that the boys are in real danger if this is the case, but they might have been carjacked by someone being paid by Donn, as a diversion. From his perspective, it may only be worthwhile to speed up the bust if he's the one who makes it. So we have to make a decision - do we do what Donn expects and go after the boys first, possibly throwing the race in the process?"

"Hell yes we do." FP gave Brand a look. "We can lose a race. I can lose this work, and you'll live without a job if it comes to that. The boys are our first priority."

"Good. All right. Just making sure we're on the same page." Brand nodded once, firmly. That was that, then.

Rose might be very disappointed, and this decision might have repercussions for everyone if Donn was promoted into a position of power over them, but FP's analysis was the same as his own:

They had their priority.

**00000**

Sweet Pea was surprised when he got a call back. There was a lot going on in the Southside that was a whole lot more pressing and immediate than the information he'd shared and the action he wanted to see taken.

He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though.

"Davies?"

"Sweet Pea, I hear you're not nearly as useless as you look."

Sweet Pea had never been told that he looked useless. Literally never. He might have been accused of _being _useless, and Alice had certainly made her best pitch for that earlier that very day, but that was different. He immediately wondered if this agent was full of it.

"He's got an ego, huh?" Davies continued speaking, but now his voice was directed away from the phone to someone on his end. "I think he had a stroke just now. You want to take this one?"

"Sorry about him." FP's voice replaced Davies' on the phone. "He's impatient. But then, so am I - what do you know about the carjackers? We need locations."

And now Sweet Pea was lost. And more than a little panicked to realize that FP Jones presumably knew that he'd cut a deal with the FBI. Despite his claims of insight into FP's motives and loyalties, Sweet Pea was realizing in this moment that he was not nearly as sure about those declarations as he'd thought he'd been. "Nothing. I don't know anything about - FP, what's going on?"

"There was a carjacking in the Southside; someone took an FBI van. And I take it news of the Serpents' involvement in recent activities has been exaggerated." FP sighed, but it was with relief; Joaquin had made it sound as though every last Serpent had been in on the blowing up of Southside High, and that had been much more troubling than potentially shortening that list to just the less stable - but still loyal - Serpents whose names FP could rattle off without much effort. "They released the FBI agent who was driving, and we think that they took Jughead and two others. None of whom are actually full FBI."

Sweet Pea made a face. That was definitely weird. It didn't sound like the Serpents, either. "Look, the guys who beat up Jughead wouldn't have done that."

"Who would?"

Sweet Pea thought that was a stupid question; if he'd known that, he'd have volunteered that information before now.

"Hey, it's Davies again." The phone had clearly changed hands once more. "Forget motive. Rogue Serpents might want FP's kid, and they'd definitely want leverage with the FBI. We might even have a severely misguided rescue attempt we're dealing with, but we're not counting on that. Let's also ignore the release of the driver for a minute, since it's possible they just didn't know who that was. FP wants the kid back; I want the FBI's interns back. We'll take the well-adjusted one while we're at it, and the world's a safer place for all concerned." Brand figured that covered just about everything.

"Now, DeSantos thinks that somewhere in his crazy-as-hell scheme to become a homeowner he might have tipped people off to Trip's value to… well, everyone. DeSantos also thinks that there might be a hiding-in-plain-sight location that was acquired by the faction sometime during the past six or eight months." Brand wasn't clear on the timeline, but a very recent acquisition would be too risky for what he suspected was going on - from the bombing to the abduction.

"FP doesn't know it; DeSantos doesn't know it; if you know it, you've only seen or heard about it as something innocuous." Brand was putting all of his chips on this narrative, at least for now; they could regroup and try again if Sweet Pea had nothing for them. "Anything match that description and have a footprint that's bigger than an apartment? It could even be a trailer."

Sweet Pea blinked. "You mean… has any Serpent bought property? Anything bigger than an apartment?"

"Yes, Sweet Pea."

"No."

"All right, then let's talk about-,"

"There were just the places we leased in the spring. In some office buildings."

"Uh." Davies seemed speechless for a couple of beats. "That works too. Got an address?"

"There are a few of them."

"I've got a pen."

Sweet Pea was only sure that this was not high treason when he was reassured by the sound of FP's voice in the background of the call once again. The Serpent leader was asking something about how Davies figured "Trip" had value to "everyone" if a key factor was located in Canada. Davies was shushing him and then he returned his attention to the phone.

"Addresses, Sweet Pea. Go."

**00000**

Alice was not feeling very charitable toward anyone when she caught sight of Sweet Pea walking through the Southside from the rear passenger window of Betty's car; they'd retrieved her vehicle from Southside High and finally navigated their way out of the traffic surrounding the demolished school.

That less than charitable impulse might have had a lot to do with her insistence that the group drop her off on the sidewalk and continue FP's fact-finding 'mission' without her.

Or maybe Alice had lost her mind. That was seeming increasingly likely as she did more and more to enmesh herself in the tangled Southside politics that by rights had nothing to do with her.

"Sweet Pea!" Alice abandoned the car as soon as Betty stopped it, and she jogged toward the Serpent. Sweet Pea was pocketing his cellphone, and his head snapped up sharply at the sound of his name being yelled in the street. "Jughead and Archie were carjacked with some other guy. They're all missing. Let's just say that this is _not_ the time to defend or protect anyone; what have you heard?"

Sweet Pea's skittish body language became still more pronounced and he avoided eye contact. "I don't... I don't know anything about that, Alice. I'm, uh, sure the police are working on finding them, though. We should probably stay out of their way, right? Don't you think?"

Alice had almost reached Sweet Pea on the sidewalk, but at his words she stopped in her tracks a few paces away from him. Her eyes narrowed and she put her hands on her hips. "_Really_? That's the line you're going with? After everything you said to Kevin Keller in the lunchroom at Riverdale High about the police?"

Sweet Pea looked like he might be sick as he absorbed that and realized his misstep.

"Sweet Pea, honestly - has it never occurred to you that you'd be a lot further ahead if you just leveled with me?" Alice searched his eyes for a moment before she seemed to shake the whole thing off. "Whatever; I don't have time to play mind games. FP sent the others to find information about real estate in the Southside, so that much is covered, but-,"

"Wait, what? FP sent them? He sent you?" Sweet Pea's face transformed from pained to a thrilled, hopeful expression. "You changed your mind - and you're working with FP now?"

"Do not get me started," Alice said darkly. She glowered over Sweet Pea's Pavlovian response to FP's name. "I haven't changed my mind. Not about FP, and not about you either. I just know that sending one more person to search a bunch of files is a waste of time. So I'd like to attempt to be a step above useless, even though you're making me think that this was not the route to take."

"You're not useless, Alice." The words came out before Sweet Pea could stop them. "You are a _pain_, but... I'm pretty sure that you're incapable of being useless. And you _were_ right about some things. I can't tell you - uh, stuff - or you'll be in danger, too, but trust me: you were right about a lot of things. Just not about FP. He's definitely not on the wrong side of things. I don't know who else we can trust, though, because it sounds like some of the Serpents have turned on their own. I don't know who and I don't know why, but a lot of people have done things that I would have sworn on my life they'd never do." Sweet Pea looked tortured by the thought.

"Welcome to the real world, Sweet Pea," Alice said, but her tone was suddenly gentle. "I'm really sorry that your family's falling apart."

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Do you really think there's something to salvage here?" Alice gestured around at the Southside. "Some kind of core group of loyal, decent Serpents who haven't turned on you and everything you stand for?"

"I have to believe that, Alice." Sweet Pea's tone was even as he met her gaze. "What choice do I have? I'd be as bad as the traitors if I up and walked away now."

"All right, then. I'll help you. I'll let FP know that we're in the Southside and we're available. Any idea where he's likely to go? We could always just meet up with him and save some time."

Sweet Pea grimaced uncomfortably as Alice began to text, but he did not raise any objections - he'd try to be encouraging as long as she was helping. "I'm parked a few blocks that way. And I might know basically where he's headed right now, yeah."

"Okay. I texted him that we're on our way." Alice began to lead Sweet Pea in the direction he'd indicated. "Have you got a car? Or am I going to be taking your helmet? Because no way am I getting on a donor cycle without at least that much protection from your driving."

"You can borrow my helmet." Sweet Pea ducked his head apologetically as they walked together. "It won't fit, but we'll see what we can do. And, uh, here." Sweet Pea shrugged out of his leather jacket. "This won't fit either, but-,"

"It's protection. I'll take it." Alice draped it over her shoulders and was amused by how easily she could slide both arms into the long sleeves from that position. "How tall _are_ you?"

"Tall enough that I'll probably die young," Sweet Pea intoned mournfully.

"Oh, give me a break." Alice shoved his shoulder lightly, noticing as she did so that his T-shirt was soft with wear and that he wore dog tags. "Aren't you going to get cold?"

"Nah. I just wear the jacket as a fashion statement." Sweet Pea smirked. "Seriously, I'm like a furnace. You're doing me a favor by carrying that thing for me."

"I see." Alice tried not to crack a smile when Sweet Pea held a very warm hand to the back of her neck to demonstrate.

"I saw that." Sweet Pea gave Alice a knowing smile and a wink. This time she returned his smile without hesitation. "You know, Alice, now that you've come to help the Southside and all, I'm starting to wonder if you're a team player after all... just one without a team."

"I'm sure that's what people said about the Unabomber," Alice quipped defensively, but with a surprised laugh. It was not an unwelcome idea that she might be capable of having a group of her own, and of being accepted and valued. However, it was unexpected to be confronted by that prospect right now.

"Well..." Sweet Pea's smile became slightly mischievous, "don't tell anyone, but after seeing Southside High blasted down to its foundation, I'm not entirely opposed to the bombing types. You know, as long as nobody's hurt."

"Of course," Alice agreed wryly, but she was still smiling. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. "Hey, that might be FP texting. Let's see what he has to say for himself."

**00000**

Fred was deeply relieved when Jonathan regained consciousness. His employee was horrified and even somewhat mortified over everything that had happened, and he welcomed Fred sitting in as he gave his statement to the FBI and to Sheriff Keller.

"I was attacked while I was locking up; they held me at gunpoint. They all wore masks, and I'm not sure who anyone was."

Fred was nodding along sympathetically. Jonathan kept looking at him apologetically, and it felt important that he keep reassuring him: his safety was worth far more than the materials or insurance or whatever else was affected by him cooperating with armed intruders.

"We were hoping you'd be able to help us figure out who set off the explosives, and why," Agent Quinn spoke gently. "Did anyone say anything?"

"It sounded like they just wanted to create a lot of chaos. They were sending a message to someone. I'm not sure how I got that impression, exactly," Jonathan frowned. "They mentioned television coverage, maybe? I'm not sure what they said, but it was something like that."

"That information might help." Agent Quinn was nodding. "Impressions are fine for now; we'll work backward from whatever you can tell us and try to make sense of it that way. What happened after they jumped you?"

"They made me give them a tour of the school and explain what was wrong with it, and why we decided to make it a tear-down." Jonathan frowned. "I assumed that was related to the explosives since they were really interested in those, but they kept asking questions even after that was clear. They seemed to have some sort of a list of questions - maybe from someone else? - and we worked through them one at a time, even if they were redundant. Do you think this was politically motivated? Southsiders who didn't believe the tear-down was warranted?"

"It could have been. We'll consider all possibilities," Sheriff Keller contributed. "So you showed them around the school and explained the mold issues and the reasons that rebuilding was... cost effective?"

"Yeah. Weird, I know. Then we went to pick up their supplies."

"Hold on - they didn't have those with them?" Agent Williams interjected. "They must not have expected to get access. But they set all of this up?"

"No. They were waiting for me." Jonathan shook his head. "They knew they'd have access. They wanted me to show them what was in place so they could determine exactly what to bring. It was a lot of materials, and I'm guessing they had additional people and vehicles that they didn't want to involve if they didn't have to."

"Which means there's a stash somewhere." Agent Quinn nodded. "They'll have to dispose of the excess, or they'll have to store it. That's helpful information."

"Not 'somewhere.'" Jonathan looked around at the law enforcement in the room. "It's a factory building that's been converted into offices."

"You... went with them to get the supplies?" Agent Quinn's jaw dropped.

"That's probably why they left me inside of the school to die," Jonathan confirmed soberly. "I saw everything but faces. I can take you there right now."

"Bury the lead much?" Williams was already moving. "Let's go."

Fred waited for it to be at least a little less obvious before he began texting Brand.

And there were texts waiting for him on the screen.

Some of which were from names he did not recognize.

Fred figured FP would have said something if there was anything too private on his phone; he finished texting Brand and then pulled up the text messages that had come in.

Betty was texting that Joaquin had an idea, and they were investigating floor plans for an old factory. That seemed like confirmation from a second source to Fred, and those two were unlikely to make a reckless move since they were officially on intel-gathering duty.

Fred recalled Brand's instructions to impersonate FP as needed, and replied: 'Get me whatever you find. You and Desanto (sp?) stay put.'

Alice had texted that she'd met up with Sweet Pea (whoever that was), and that he had more faith in FP than was warranted, but they'd see him (FP?) soon. That did not make sense without more context, and Fred tried to be vague with his reply - but perhaps begin rebuilding the bridge that seemed to have become at the very least badly singed between those two. 'Sounds good. It's always a pleasure to see you and Sweet Pea, Alice.'

Someone called Tall Boy had texted that a runt had gotten into a scrape and asked whether FP wanted the leashes off.

That one sounded dangerous.

'If nobody is going to be hurt or engage in anything illegal (or questionable), then you may use your best judgment. Do you have more details?' Fred texted cautiously.

That last one didn't really sound like FP, but Fred was nervous about ignoring or okaying something that he'd later regret, and he wanted to make absolutely certain that he was communicating clearly.

'Mustang' had a question and some constructive feedback: 'You got a clue whos workin for who? Been pulled all directions. Tell me you blew up the school - rock on.'

Fred figured he'd better leave that one alone.

Brand texted back: 'Had three options; now we have one. Nice work. Get more info if you can. We're going in.'

Fred sagged in relief.

"_Who were you just texting_?" Agent Quinn was returning to where Fred was texting, almost at a run. She did not look happy.

"Uh, what?" Fred tried to look innocent, before realizing that would only look more guilty. "Why would you ask-,"

"We just got word that there was a second explosion, your son was a target of the carjacking, and you're right in the middle of our investigation - and you're _texting_. You know demolitions; you're still covered with dirt from the first explosion of the day." Agent Quinn's eyes were wide. "What _exactly _is going on here?"

"Brand told me to level with you if something came up. Only you." Fred put his hands up placatingly - or maybe as though he was being arrested. Nobody else was coming over to investigate yet, so if he spoke quickly he could hopefully keep this just between him and Agent Quinn. "I'm texting Davies what Jonathan told us. And, uh, a few other people. We're just trying to find my son. What do you mean, another explosion? Did you get more information? Is everyone okay?"

"Davies is the one you were texting? You didn't just detonate an explosion remotely, as part of a ransom demand? Is this even your phone, or were you given it for some kind of a job? It's possible that you may not even know it if you did just set off a bomb." Agent Quinn's eyes were still wide.

"It's FP's phone. Brand told me to take it. There are no demands. Or… did _you _get demands? I thought we didn't know why the boys were taken." Fred gasped in a deep breath. "I… I don't think I could have detonated anything." He still had his hands in the air.

Agent Quinn took the phone from Fred. The messages between him and Brand were still on the screen. "He's on his way there already?" She blinked. "I'm going to win the bet with Williams."

"She bet _against _Brandon finding my son?" Fred's jaw dropped. That was horrifyingly cold.

"She bet that it would take him an hour longer to get an address and get into position." Agent Quinn pulled out a set of handcuffs. "Come on. I like you, but we're playing this safe until we have a whole lot more information about what's going on."

Fred was surprised when it finally clicked: the cuffs were for him. Apparently texting information from the site of the FBI's questioning of a witness had landed him in at least a little hot water.

Then Fred fully processed what she'd just told him: there had been a second bomb. Maybe somewhere near where Brandon was heading. Where Archie might be. And she'd just taken FP's phone away from him.

"Uh, you can cuff me." Fred held his wrists out willingly. "But can I have the phone back? Just for a minute?"

Agent Quinn's incredulous expression was not encouraging.

**00000**

Betty looked at the text one more time. "Yeah, I think you're right, Joaquin. That doesn't sound like it's from FP. We should get over there right now. Alice texted too and FP told her and Sweet Pea to go ahead and meet him, but it was weird and she thinks there might have been a code. Like maybe he's being held against his will and he's trying to send us a signal."

Veronica, Kevin, and Joaquin stared at her in horror. They were in the offices of _The Register_, using the computers to gather the details they needed; they had printed building plans and texted the information that they were able to Brand's phone.

"Come _on_. Jughead and Archie are still missing, and Alice and Sweet Pea could be heading into a trap. We have to hurry." Betty motioned for them to follow her.

"Are we seriously doing this?" Kevin asked Veronica. She shot a glance at Betty, who was already moving quickly.

"Archie might be there, so yeah - I am. And I get the sense that Betty is, whether or not you go along. Alice and Sweet Pea are already headed there." Veronica shrugged. "You two can bail between now and then if you change your mind. We can just drop you off somewhere along the way."

"In the Southside? Right. Great plan." Kevin gestured to underscore his sarcasm.

"Hey. I'll make sure you get home safely if we have to bail. I say we go and at least try to give them some backup. No way was that text from FP. Maybe he _is_ trying to send us a message," Joaquin offered. He was speaking only to Kevin.

"You going to explain all of this on the way?" Kevin gestured to Joaquin's filthy outfit. Joaquin had left his hard hat in Betty's car, but he was still covered with dust and dirt from the explosion.

"The story might be too long for right now, but sure. I'll try." Joaquin nodded. He bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Kevin."

It was not the first time that Joaquin had apologized since they'd begun their fact-finding mission. It was, however, the first time that Kevin acknowledged him apologizing:

"You should be. Let's go." Kevin motioned for the others to follow him as he exited the building.

Veronica gave Joaquin a weak smile as they hurried toward where Betty had brought the car around. "Thanks for coming. And... I'm sure you had good reasons for everything."

Joaquin sighed. "I thought I did, until about a week ago. Now I'm not so sure, and I'm really not sure how Kevin's going to see things."

"You can only explain, and then let him decide what to do with that information." Veronica dropped a hand onto Joaquin's shoulder as they exited the library's double set of doors. "He was really worried, so he might be mad for a while. Just give him time to figure out how he feels. But for now let's go find my boyfriend."

**00000**

"Don't go over there."

"It didn't work - we should-,"

"Dude, _stay down_. Haven't you ever set off fireworks?"

"Those are illegal."

"Not even on the fourth of July?"

"They're still illegal."

"But that's, like... civil disobedience, Clark. Come on."

"What's your point?" Clark turned on Archie. "Why would fireworks be relevant to-,"

The bomb went off.

"Not gonna say I told you so, but seriously-," Archie was already moving to spot Jughead as he climbed up and over their sand and salt barrier, "-listen to the demolitions experts from now on."

"It... worked." The explosion had not felt nearly as violent as the school going up, but they were a whole lot closer to it - and proximity had a quality all its own. Clark was staring at a hole in the wall that was just above waist height, and very impressive in diameter. "We can actually fit through that. We're alive. The barrier isn't even-,"

"Science," Archie declared proudly. "Now come on - we need to run."

Clark quickly reached to help Archie support Jughead. It seemed like he was a lot more sure of himself now that the explosion had been completed successfully, and he began to take charge of the three once again. "Let's go. You doing okay, Macgyver?"

"I am trying very hard not to puke on you, Clark." Jughead smiled weakly. "Take me to the drugs."

"Our first priority is making contact with the FBI," Clark replied firmly. He climbed through the hole first when Archie waved him forward, and then he helped Jughead painfully hoist himself up and through the damaged wall. "They'll hook you up, Jones."

Clark helped Jughead land gently on his feet, but they all winced when Jughead bent over and retched again.

Archie had just made it through the hole and out of sight when they heard the door to the storage room fly open. At first there wasn't even a shout; it sounded as though they'd shocked their captors into giving them a few more moments of head start.

And they had exited the storage room to an exterior hallway that had a wall of windows - some of which had not fared well in the blast.

"I'm a genius," Archie whispered.

Archie grabbed Jughead's arm as he seemed to have recovered slightly, and hoped that his best friend would be able to manage a real run for it once his current round of nausea abated. They could just go through the opening where the windows had shattered, and it would be short work to disappear into the neighborhood if they were careful - and quick.

But then Jughead doubled over again.

Clark began pulling Jughead away from Archie. He was shaking his head and his expression was darkly determined. "Leave him with me. You're an athlete, right? Run. Get help. We'll get as far as we can, but you have to be the one to make sure that at least one of us gets away."

Archie tugged them both along after him for a few more steps, but Clark grabbed Archie's shoulders and shook him harshly. "Seriously, Archer. If none of us make it out, we're screwed. Get to the FBI. They'll want the two of us back in the worst way. And who knows - maybe we'll make it out right behind you."

Archie nodded. Jughead was straightening up - people were coming - Archie bolted.

"MacGyver, I'm not going to leave you," Clark quickly helped Jughead in the opposite direction from the one Archie had gone in, "but you should know that at this moment we are only buying time for Archer. We're not going to make it out."

"Then we should give them as many targets as possible." Jughead nodded decisively, even while gasping with pain. "I'll head to the parking lot and get down so they can't find me easily. Go get Brand; get my dad."

"What? _No_, Jones. I literally just said that I'm not leaving you. We didn't risk our lives blowing out a wall to leave you to face the music alone - and injured. This is how the FBI works." Clark made a face. "I think, anyway. I also think that our resident agency might have some serious issues."

Jughead laughed shortly. "Yeah. I think you might be right about that."

The people who were pursuing them would almost certainly exit the building at any moment.

"They're going to see us," Jughead warned. "We should-,"

"Just take it easy." Clark made firm eye contact with Jughead to underscore his words. "Don't draw attention to yourself or give them any clue that you're valuable to Davies or to anyone else; you're too vulnerable and it would be way too easy for them to take advantage of that, just by withholding your pills. I'm going to ask for your pain meds and we'll go from there. They're probably going to want to split us up now that we've escaped once, but we'll do our best to keep that from happening."

Clark looked terrified by the prospect of recapture, but as soon as Jughead nodded in acknowledgement of the plan he pushed the younger intern behind himself and squared his shoulders.

"We're going to try to convince them that you're not with the FBI, okay? You're my... second cousin or something, and you just happened to be in the vehicle. You're underage, you have no clearance, and if they so much as touch you they'll be drawn and quartered."

Clark nodded to himself as he continued to ramble. "Uh, they need to drop you off somewhere or there's going to be an Amber Alert out for you within the next fifteen minutes. That's our story."

"They blew up a highschool. They're not going to care about an Amber Alert." Jughead felt his breathing accelerating toward hyperventilation. He tried to slow his respiration, but it was painful with his ribs in such tough shape.

"They thought it was an empty building. I hope." Clark's voice was shaking, but he seemed to steel himself once again while he reached behind his back and grasped Jughead's arm firmly as they saw the men emerge from the building and raise their guns threateningly. "Just remember your legend, Macgyver, and act clueless. I'll do my best to get us both home in one piece."

"Okay. Thanks, wingman."

"Don't thank me yet."

**00000**

**Sorry (okay, not as sorry as I could be, admittedly...) for another cliffhanger! :-D Just a few more chapters as we bring this all together... :) As always, I'll enjoy any and all notes immensely, and be much encouraged as I sort out all of the threads... :-D Thank you for reading! I hope you have a lovely weekend!**

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	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty is my reward for making it through the demands of this week intact. Flourishing bow just for that! :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, awwwwww - I love the Clark love so much. :-D He'll be around, I think. That's definitely his tag line now, too: "A huge dork and a hero" is every bit as good as "an officer and a gentleman." :-D I'm so glad you're liking Sweet Pea and Alice as well! (I'm a sucker for it too, though I spent a lot of brain power considering whether it was overly dangerous to wear an ill-fitting helmet... ;) The texting was fun to write, and I'm glad it raised intrigue and was fun to watch play out! Fred is getting to be more involved in things, and this is unfortunately his reward. :-D Your predictions are astute as always... and I hope you like this chapter! (also, mentions of sequels make me far too happy... I might have a problem... :-D)**

**Guest, thank you for the lovely review! I thought Alice had quite the mic drop moment with FP, yes; she really doesn't pull punches. I'm excited to see how things develop with Sweet Pea and Alice as well, and I'm glad you're liking their dynamic (and FP/Brand working together well for once!). The boys did pretty well, I agree - I think they're maturing and learning to work together, whether or not it serves them as well as it could in all instances. Also, you are very, very welcome; it is my pleasure, and your faithful notes make it even more fun to write. :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Archie slowed to a walk so he could think more clearly as he traversed a beautiful suburban neighborhood and, just as this block belied his impressions of the Southside in general, he was pretty sure that not everyone in the Southside was an enemy.

It just felt like it.

The FBI was dangerous; the Serpents were dangerous; the non-Serpent Southsiders had a grudge against Jughead's dad that had somehow extended all the way to Archie because of their 'famous friendship.'

It really seemed like they had been betrayed by someone who had been pretending to be a friend, so any offer of help might also be suspect. If Archie walked up to a house, it could be that the occupants would try to keep him there - and maybe even attempt to turn him back over to the kidnappers.

Archie wasn't sure that his reasoning was logical, but he also was not sure he could take a chance. It was unclear what options that left him with, though.

And then, as if in a mirage, he saw the perfect person standing on the sidewalk a block away.

"Gunnar!" Archie broke back into a run.

This was fantastic: Gunnar was already an enemy, so that guaranteed that he had not betrayed their trust.

There was no trust to betray.

Archie could be sure of where he stood with him; now he just needed to convince him to help.

"What are you doing in the Southside?" Gunnar watched Archie approach on the sidewalk, giving him a very odd look as he took in the dust and dirt from Southside High's unplanned demolition. "You look like you just... crossed the Gobi Desert or something."

"I need help, Gunnar. A phone," Archie blurted. "Do you live around here?"

"Yeah. I'm getting the mail." Gunnar gestured toward the mailbox he was standing beside. "My phone's inside."

"Oh. Uh, can I come in?" Archie asked.

"No way. You think we want a target on our house? Everyone knows you're Jughead Jones' best friend. This is pretty much the last safe neighborhood in the Southside, and now that the Serpents are leasing space-,"

Archie suddenly had an idea. "No, no. Of course you don't want a target on your house. Or on your family. You're completely right. Which is why you're going to get me off of your lawn, where the whole neighborhood can see us and might get the wrong idea about what's going on here."

There was a long silence as they eyed each other tensely.

"Fine. Get inside. Now." Gunnar appeared to have been swayed by his logic.

"Thank you, thank you-," Archie moved to follow Gunnar. "You won't regret this."

**00000**

Jughead was pulled roughly away from Clark and his wrists and elbows were swiftly zip-tied behind his back once more. A man held his arms so he could not even attempt to run, while another stood beside him - presumably to act as backup if necessary. Not that Jughead would have tried anything, considering the number of guns that he could see.

Clark was grabbed as well and held tightly by two men, even as he pled for Jughead's medication to be returned to them. A fifth man simply waited, assessing the situation and covering everyone with his handgun.

"He's really hurt. He's just a kid - a junior in highschool - and you don't seem to realize how injured he is. His father beat him up; he almost died." Jughead's jaw dropped. This was definitely not part of the 'legend' that they had briefly discussed.

"You took him by mistake, I promise. I think he needs a hospital, and you have to at least give him his painkillers." Clark took a deep breath and shot Jughead as reassuring a look as he could manage before he continued. "Please. You can hold me for as long as you want, but you need to drop him off somewhere so that he can get medical help. It will take a lot of heat off of the search, too."

The men ignored Clark; they looked upset, but not about Jughead's condition or the fact that it was continuing to go downhill.

"Where's the other kid?"

"Great." The man standing to the side sighed heavily. "We now have an FBI agent and the gang leader's kid, and no instructions for what to do with them at this point - and that other one's going to bring the feds down on us in no time flat."

"That... is quite the field promotion, sir," Clark attempted. "And his father's got issues, but he's not in a _gang_. Your information is-,"

One of the masked men holding Clark turned toward him, and had clearly run out of patience with his contributions. He backhanded Clark before he could attempt to explain further.

Clark spat blood and gave Jughead a scared look and a shake of his head; apparently Jughead looked like he was about to try something stupid.

"Tie him up - this time so he can't get loose. We're dumping the dead weight before the FBI sends the big guns after us."

Jughead's eyes widened and he felt like he might be sick again. He tried to move toward his friend - to do whatever he had to in order to protect Clark -, but he was jerked back by the man who was holding onto his zip-tied arms. He gasped as his ribs were wrenched by the movement.

"You need those meds, huh?"

Jughead looked up at the man mutely, trying to process what he'd just learned.

They might be about to kill Clark. They knew who his dad was. They were working for a third party. Jughead tried to figure out what he could say that might help the situation - and help Clark.

"One pill or two?"

"Please, don't hurt Clark-,"

"One or two?"

"He's not an FBI agent. He's just- we're both just-,"

"Shut up, Macgyver." Clark was being hauled away, toward the parking lot. "Give him one. If he throws it up, try another one. But don't try more than that - he might overdose."

"Come on. They're in the van. We've got to get somewhere far from this disaster while we wait for orders. What a cluster."

Jughead shook his head. Clark would be dead long before he could get to help.

"What about this seems like a negotiation?" The man started pulling Jughead toward the parking lot where the others had taken Clark.

Jughead planted his feet. Gritting his teeth, he tried an escape and ignored the blazing pain through his ribs as he broke free.

And then he winced as his hearing exploded and a clump of grass was crushed right beside his feet. Someone had fired a gun.

"I don't want you throwing up in the van, either." The man gestured for Jughead to walk ahead of him, and seemed entirely unperturbed by his pathetic escape attempt. "Let's go. Keep your mouth shut, and if we put you on the phone, you say only what you're told. One word out of line and we'll kill your friend."

Jughead shot a look toward the other men. He could no longer see Clark, but he was suddenly a lot more hopeful: maybe they weren't planning to kill him after all.

It was also probably for the best that Clark didn't hear that threat.

Jughead submitted willingly, figuring he didn't have any other option at the moment. He might even be able to help if he complied for the time being.

He was hustled toward the van. Where his pain pills were. To wait for orders, whatever that meant.

Then it clicked: the man probably meant orders from Agent Donn.

Jughead doubled over, retching painfully.

"Get that out of your system here. Do _not _do that in the van."

**00000**

"Why are people converging on an office building that's been leased by the Serpents?" Brand asked FP.

"Is that a rhetorical question? This is starting to look like Toronto all over again." FP frowned. It was definitely not press, and there was only a lone cruiser so far among the surprising number of vehicles that were in the lot they were approaching - but they'd clearly been scooped.

Tall Boy was walking out of the building, and appeared to be flanked by a number of Serpents.

"Oh. Wow," Brand said as they pulled into the parking lot.

They suddenly had a very clear view of what had summoned everyone to this location: smoke was emitting from a large hole in a wall of windows.

FP threw the vehicle into park and scrambled out of the driver's seat to get a better view.

Brand pulled out his cell phone; he was staring at the screen as he got out of the car. "Oh, okay."

"What's okay?" FP stared at the damaged building. "Have they been found? Are they hurt?"

"A bomb went off while we were en route here. I don't mean 'okay' so much as 'that explains people being here.' And explains that hole in the building. Let's go."

They jogged forward. Brand sized up Tall Boy, who had halted in the doorway of the building to wait for them while the other Serpents started getting into vehicles and onto bikes. "Are those your guys, FP? Or are they likely to be in the faction?"

"No idea." FP thought about that for another second. "I think they're my guys."

They were. Tall Boy approached FP immediately as they neared the building.

"Those traitors thought brick and mortar would hold a Jones." Tall Boy grinned, but then he gave FP a meaningful look and spoke as if in code: "I used my best judgment."

"You don't have any 'best judgment,' Tall Boy. You set off a bomb near my son?" FP moved past Tall Boy to investigate the destroyed portion of wall, and saw that the storage room beyond was empty of people. "You're telling me that Jughead's here? He was being held by Serpents?"

"He was being held here by people employed by the Serpent _traitors_. At least, that's what someone was bragging to someone they _really _shouldn't have been bragging to. And that bomb wasn't me." Tall Boy smirked. "A smoking crater. I like his style. I can see why you thought Jughead was ready for you to come home to the Southside. He's not here now; he must've took off. But you don't need to worry, FP. I've already got Serpents - _loyal_ Serpents - looking for him all over the Southside."

Brand climbed through the hole; he didn't see an easy way to get at the door to the room, which meant it was probably a longer walk than he wanted to take the time for. He'd worry about prints, ballistics - or whatever it was called after an explosion -, and all of that later.

"He's right - the bomb went off inside the room. They blasted their way out, FP. I see the kid's shoeprints; he was here all right."

"You brought some kind of a... tracker?" Tall Boy watched Brand curiously.

"I stole him away from the FBI." FP leaned into the hole to see what Brand was investigating. "You sure they're his prints?"

"Ni-ice," Tall Boy ducked so that he could see through the hole as well.

"Are you asking if it's possible that anyone else with roughly his shoe size bought the same pair of sneakers at some point?" Brand shot FP an irritated look. "Three people were tied up in here, they got themselves free, and one of them has been throwing up bile. Probably the one with cracked ribs and bruises all over him, since hostages might not get unfettered access to pain pills."

FP grimaced. "Where would they have gone? How long ago did all this happen?"

"No more than ten, fifteen minutes ago," Tall Boy offered. "The cops are talking to a few of the guys. Don't worry about that either; we'll keep the police running in circles for you, FP."

"They must have made a run for it. I didn't teach the kid to do this, FP." Brand shook his head at the remnants of the explosion and the configuration of materials in the room. "_I'd_ have taught him to get all of the accelerant behind the protective barrier. They are very lucky they didn't trap themselves in an inferno. Clark must have hidden depths and a side of stupid."

"Or maybe it was the teenager who just spent two weeks following a demolition crew around like a puppy." FP sighed. "I didn't tell Fred what he was up to."

"Hey, don't feel bad - that might be what got them out of here alive." Brand began climbing back through the hole. "Any idea which way they went, Serpent?"

"Tall Boy." The gang member was still studying Brand critically. "At least one was running through the neighborhood across the road."

"Wait - you _saw_ them?" FP turned on Tall Boy; he was obviously angry about this information being delayed. So was Brand, for that matter. Maybe this gang member wasn't quite as loyal as FP thought. "Which way were they heading?"

"We didn't think anybody'd get far. The redhead was the only one that we saw, and that was before we got here to the parking lot and realized it meant anything," Tall Boy shrugged. "We figured we'd deal with the traitors first, since we had the element of surprise."

"You got them?" Brand glanced back into the hallways of the office building before returning his attention to scanning outside the building for any sign of Clark and the teens.

"We only got two of 'em, but I hear tell that the other traitors are being picked up all over town; it sounds like someone got wind of who was doing what." Tall Boy grinned dangerously. "Three men can keep a secret if they're all dead."

Brand tried not to react to the ominous misquote.

"Anyway, we know the redhead went that way," Tall Boy pointed toward a residential block across the street, "but that's all."

Brand shook his head. "Great. Jones, Clark, and Andrews could be anywhere. They haven't called yet, but it shouldn't take them long to get to a phone."

"We'll want some of Jug's pills on hand for when we find them," FP said. "I'll make some calls."

That was smart. Brand needed to figure out what was going on here. It sounded like the boys were not in immediate danger, and it would probably be fastest to wait for one of them to call Brand or FP - or Mr. Andrews.

And oh look, the FBI was arriving in force. Perfect timing.

Brand waved as he stepped back out of the building through the shattered windows. He was glad to see that Fred Andrews had come along for the ride, too, though from this distance it looked bizarrely like he was handcuffed.

Then a less welcome vehicle pulled into the parking lot: Alice and Sweet Pea had decided to turn up on the scene, on a motorcycle. Brand sighed. The way things were going, it would probably be the warrior queen and her crew driving up next.

**00000**

"Dad, he just needs a phone," Gunnar was standing between Archie and a gun.

This had escalated quickly.

"Mr. Helgason, I understand that this is a very stressful time-," Archie had heard his father use this lead-in at least a hundred times, "-but-,"

"You what? You do not _understand_." Mr. Helgason was not responding the way most people reacted to Archie's dad. "This is not a 'stressful time.' This is the future of our neighborhood. Our children. You walk in here, and the next thing we have is people thinking we're in bed with FP Jones - or with the FBI, for that matter - and the civil war comes here next."

"Dad, I really don't think-," Gunnar was - astonishingly - somehow on Archie's side.

Which was the side of rationality, so maybe that should not be quite so shocking.

All the same, it was heartening. Unless it indicated how very far gone Gunnar's father actually was, in which case it was disheartening. Because Mr. Helgason was the one with a gun.

So.

"You're right." Mr. Helgason's words sounded promising for a moment. Then he continued. "You _don't _think."

Okay - it was officially less than promising.

Archie and Gunnar exchanged worried glances before returning their focus to the man holding a gun.

"What would you propose?" Archie had heard his father break out that line as well during difficult situations. "I'm sure that we can find some common ground and work this out. We probably just need to be a little more creative in how we go about finding a solution."

"Who _is _this kid?" Mr. Helgason demanded of Gunnar.

Gunnar shrugged, clearly deciding that keeping his mouth shut was the best strategy.

"The way I see it, we have a common goal," Archie tried again. "We both want me gone from here, and back to the Northside as quickly as possible. Now, if we think through our options-,"

"Sit down." Mr. Helgason finally just pushed Gunnar out of the way so that the gun was pointing directly at Archie. "I need to think, and if you give me one more corporate catchphrase or any of that crap, I'm going to hurl."

Archie started to sit down on the couch.

"No - wait - forget that. You're taking a shower before we go any further."

Archie's eyebrows shot up.

Unfortunately it was an upstairs shower with no likely escape routes; but it was a shower, which was not a bad thing. Gunnar loaned him some shorts and a sports jersey, and then they all returned to the living room.

"All right. Sit tight. I've got to give this some thought."

Mr. Helgason was still awfully agitated, but at least his couch would remain clean. Archie sighed. Some people had the strangest priorities.

**00000**

Alice was trying to work through the logic, but it was not making sense.

FP had joined some Serpents in the parking lot, right about when Alice and Sweet Pea - and the FBI - had arrived, while two unfamiliar men in Serpent jackets were obviously under arrest.

Agent Davies seemed to be calling the shots, but he kept checking his phone and seemed to be getting more worked up as the minutes ticked past.

Mr. Andrews was in handcuffs, but he looked resigned, and maybe even relieved, instead of worried or upset.

Everyone seemed to think that Jughead and Archie were 'safe, but missing.' Alice had thought that was probably their status _before _they'd discovered that this building was the most likely spot for a traitor-Serpent base of operations connected to the Southside High bombing.

It seemed like maybe the relatively minor explosion that had taken a bite out of this office building was evidence that Archie and Jughead had been taken hostage, and were not being held any longer - and yet nobody had any idea where they were now.

If they had escaped, they'd made a run for it. But so far neither of them had called for a ride or to let anyone know that they were safe.

Betty's car pulled into the parking lot. Alice regarded that group thoughtfully. Sweet Pea had stayed with her, opting not to join FP and the other Serpents for the moment. Joaquin was with Betty. So they had two locals in their group: Joaquin and Sweet Pea might be their best bet for figuring out where Jughead would have led Archie and Clark if they were trying to get to safety on foot in the Southside.

Betty approached Alice, eyeing Sweet Pea's jacket but not commenting. "What's going on?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone thinks that Jughead and Archie were being held here, but they escaped-," Alice gestured at the still-smoking building, "-and left here on foot. The FBI arrested two Serpents who were involved in the bombing, and a bunch of people are tracking down the rest of them based on Joaquin's information and the literal truckloads of evidence in the building."

That much had not been spelled out, but Alice was watching them work and it was pretty obvious that there was evidence, lots of it, and that the two men who had been arrested were not the extent of the team that had pulled off the Southside High bombing.

"Who's looking for Jug and Archie?" Betty was confused. "Did they find Clark?"

"Clark's missing too. I think everyone's waiting for them to find a phone and call." Alice shrugged. "For some reason everyone seems confident that they're fine, and just took off on their own."

"But they haven't called yet?" Betty looked over at Davies, who seemed to catch her eye across the parking lot. Those two had their weird bond thing, and they did stuff like that. Betty's expression darkened. "Nope; Brand's worried. I'll go talk to him."

Alice sighed as Betty jogged off. "Sweet Pea, who lives around here? What places would Jughead or Archie know, that maybe wouldn't have a phone handy? They don't have their cellphones."

"I don't know. It isn't Serpent territory around here. It's kind of a holdout part of the Southside. That's why these office buildings are so useful; it gives the Serpents a foothold." Sweet Pea said that as if that made sense. "And what place doesn't have a phone?"

It really was strange. Maybe they'd run into trouble.

"Do you know _anyone _who lives around here?" Alice asked Sweet Pea. "We should start looking for them. Joaquin, Kevin, can you stay with Veronica and Betty and keep us posted? We'll text updates and let you know if we see anything."

"Sure," Kevin agreed easily.

They might only have half the story, but they could probably find out the other half faster than the adults - especially if the FBI insisted on waiting for information to come to them.

**00000**

"At least the Serpents are looking all over the Southside for our three. They'll spot anything out of place a lot quicker than law enforcement will," FP told Brand as he approached him and Betty. Veronica was hovering nearby, while Kevin and Joaquin had joined Alice and Sweet Pea by Alice's car. They looked tense. "What have you found out, Brandon?"

"We've got more information from the Serpents about the people who pulled off the bombing. They're hired professionals, and nobody seems to have their names. But the boys are just gone. At this point we can't wait for a call; you and I need to start searching for them too."

"This isn't a dangerous neighborhood," FP said, clearly confused. "Anyone should have helped them, or at least let them use a phone. The next few blocks in the direction they headed are families who moved here avoid the Serpents for a variety of reasons. They basically closed off this section of the Southside and circled the wagons. Had I known that anyone was considering leasing property over here, I'd have stopped that in a heartbeat. It's... _inflammatory_."

Brand considered that. "Inflammatory enough to make an insular neighborhood turn dangerous? Or are you talking about a bunch of pacifists hiding behind walls?"

"They are not pacifists," FP said emphatically, though he did not appear to be overly worried. "But they wouldn't go after teenagers."

"All right. Is there anyone around here Jones might know, or a location he might head toward? The rogue Serpent faction set up the bombing and he was carjacked while they were with Donn. He's probably skittish about the FBI as well as the Serpents. He'll look for a familiar face."

"I think the Helgasons are the only ones around here Jughead knows, but he'd avoid 'em. There's a boy his age; they used to live in Sunnyside not far from us before they bought into this neighborhood. There's a lot of bad blood there, and apparently Gunnar's a real piece of work now that he's gotten a little older."

"What's the bad blood?" Brand was not convinced that anything short of murder would keep the teens and Clark from seeking help at this point if they had any inkling at all that they could trust someone. It was getting dark fast.

"Helgason's brother was shot. Long time ago; nasty business; never should have happened."

"The Serpents shot him?" So. Murder it was. FP's silence was all the answer he needed. Brand frowned. "Forget everything you think you know about this neighborhood. They might go after teenagers, FP. There's a surviving brother who's Jones' age?"

"No. The nephew - Gunnar - is his age. Alex is the surviving brother; he's Gunnar's father."

"Okay. It wasn't a kid that was killed, then?" Brand sighed with relief when FP shook his head. That helped. Maybe a lot. "Then I think you're probably right. The kid would steer clear with that in the water, and if the locals have got some sense of moral high ground then they won't want to hurt them. We can always just knock on the door, though. Confirm. Let me get some things set up here and we'll go."

"Everyone will love that," FP said darkly, but he nodded. "Let's check it out."

**00000**

"New plan. We need you two shut down. Sit tight while I get the other one."

Jughead felt his head swimming with the hit of two pain pills - even though he'd insisted that was an overdose.

The man had ignored him and subjected Jughead to a very uncomfortable maneuver where he held the pills in Jughead's mouth, forced his head backward, and then painfully massaged his throat to make him swallow convulsively. Now Jughead felt wildly off balance, especially after going so long without relief. Bile was rising as his stomach churned, and he was beginning to feel seasick even in the motionless vehicle.

They had changed location, and thankfully done so before Jughead had begun feeling so sick from the pills, but he wished he'd had Clark along to help him keep track of turns; he'd been so dizzy that he'd even begun to doubt his own grasp of left or right, just as Archie had teased earlier in the day.

Jughead was sitting in the back of the van once more, in the space where the seats had been removed, and he leaned his head back against one of the van's sides. His captor reached behind him to double-check the zip ties on his arms, and then patted Jughead's face as if to wake him.

"Those are nice drugs, huh? Make sure you keep 'em down, but you can go to sleep."

Looking over at the masked man blearily, Jughead nodded.

"That should make things easier. In a little while I can put you all the way under and then you won't feel a thing."

That did not sound good.

Jughead wondered if he was losing time, too, when it seemed like the back of the van opened only moments later and Clark was shoved inside. He was disheveled, and his arms and torso were tied up with rope in a manner that was much more stringent than Jughead's restraints. New bruises were forming on his face, and he was silent but looked very upset to discover that Jughead was still a captive.

"Clark, it's okay - I think they just need to buy some time." Jughead was disoriented and felt very out of it, but somehow he'd developed a vague sense that that was the plan. "I think they want to, like, tie us to railroad tracks so everyone's distracted while they get out of Dodge. They're working for someone else; this isn't their fight."

Clark's eyes were like saucers and he was uncharacteristically quiet and docile as he was manhandled by the masked man into a position where his wrists could be secured behind him to an anchor in the van.

"I mean, uh, _metaphorical _train tracks," Jughead tried to explain, since his words had not had the desired effect. Clark looked as though he'd been treated a lot worse than Jughead had been since their failed escape attempt, which made him feel an almost overwhelming need to encourage his fellow intern.

"Like... a stalling tactic. We won't get run over or anything." Jughead frowned. "I think they're trying to distract Brand. Maybe he's close to making a bust."

"_Hey_. Cut it out with the speculating." The man who had secured Clark in the van turned to Jughead and began unhooking Jughead's suspenders from his work pants. He called out of the back of the van. "Got anything I can stick in this kid's mouth? He's begging for a gag and his sleeves are disgusting."

There was a lengthy silence and then someone offered a wad of what looked like gauze.

"Oh. That works too." The man dropped Jughead's suspenders to the floor of the vehicle and gave him a serious look. "Deep breaths, kid. With any luck you won't wake up until it's all over. Just relax and enjoy the long sleep. It's a good deal, too, if you think about it. No bad bosses-," the man clamped the fabric over Jughead's mouth and nose as he spoke, "no nasty divorce or brat kids. You don't even look old enough to have had a root canal."

Jughead barely had time to piece together that the man was suggesting that he'd never wake up again from being drugged into unconsciousness. As he held his breath and began thrashing in an attempt to dislodge the man's grip on his face, he could hear Clark yelling something about 'barbarians' and 'just a kid' and 'fullest extent of the law.'

"Calm down, you two. This is the dream, right? Everyone wants to go peacefully in their sleep." The man was smirking down at Jughead as the teen fought to get free - even just long enough to gasp a single lungful of air. "Someone must like you. This stuff costs money, you know."

Jughead was already woozy from the pain pills, so he couldn't tell if he was dizzy from holding his breath or from the drugs or from attempting to resist the man pressing the fabric to his face. All he was sure of was that it wasn't going to be long before he had to inhale, and then there would be nothing more he could do to defend himself.

Suddenly the masked man's grip on his face was dislodged - he was knocked off of Jughead and fell heavily against the wall of the van.

Jughead had twisted his body far enough that he was lying on the floor of the van. He gasped for air, sobbing, and his tear-filled eyes met Clark's terrified ones. His fellow intern had somehow managed to maneuver himself into a position where he could kick the masked man off of Jughead.

"Clark-," Jughead choked as he pulled in more air, but he continued forcing the words out hoarsely, "if you make it home, tell my dad-,"

"Oh, calm down. I was only trying to make things easier for you." The masked man was clearly furious as he pushed himself up from where he'd landed. "But after that little stunt? Forget it. Back to back; let's go."

The man pulled Jughead up into a seated position and roughly pivoted Clark around the anchor that he was secured to so that their backs were pressed together. He started unlacing one of Clark's formal boot-style dress shoes, yanking on the bootlace impatiently as he did so.

"I'm going to noose you together. Maybe _then _you'll stay still and quiet for five minutes. If you want to downgrade our job to body disposal, just keep on struggling. You won't get anywhere, and you'll take out your buddy's airway in the process."

Clark grabbed Jughead's wrists tightly behind himself. "Jones, we have to relax. We're going to be fine, I promise we'll be fine, but we have got to stay calm."

"Yeah. I got that, Clark." Jughead tried to slow his breathing, and he desperately hoped that his being sickeningly dizzy wasn't about to put them both in grave danger.

He straightened his spine as much as he could when the man looped the thick, unyielding bootlace around his throat and then Clark's so that the backs of their skulls were pressed tightly together. The lace hooked around an anchor higher on the wall of the van, tethering them both uncomfortably in place, and Jughead immediately wondered how strained Clark was with his wrists still anchored to the floor of the van.

"The game is simple: don't move and the noose won't tighten." The man jogged Clark's shoulder and they both whimpered fearfully when the slight motion caused the rough cord to cut into their throats.

The van doors slammed shut.

"Can you hold your position, Clark?" Jughead tried to take stock of his own body's complaints. "I think I'll be okay like this for a while, but my wrists aren't attached to anything. I'm sorry about- uh-," Jughead realized mid-sentence that he wasn't sure how to apologize for panicking over the threat of being drugged and then murdered while he was unconscious.

"Wow, Jones. I can't believe you're even trying to apologize right now. That was the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced, which is actually _saying _something after today. Who knows - he might have chloroformed me next and we'd both be dead right now. This might have been the only way for us to get home alive, and we just saved ourselves by fighting back."

Clark sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but his tone radiated sincerity. Jughead was relieved that he wasn't being blamed for their current situation, too, even though that seemed like a petty concern, all things considered.

"I think I'm stable in this position, so we're good for the time being," Clark continued. "Why don't you, uh, tell me a story; anything at all. We need you to stay wide awake, Jones, and you looked iffy when I got here." Clark's voice was becoming more strained as he continued speaking. "Tell me about Archer - or your dog - or Special Agent Davies. Just… don't move."

Jughead took a deep, uneven breath past the tight stricture around his airway. His neck was already sore from holding the stiff position, but so far his ribs and the rest of his body seemed comfortable enough. Jughead didn't want to think about the possibility that they'd be left like this for long enough that the painkillers would begin wearing off again. "Yeah. Good plan. I'll see if I can reach any of the knots you're tied up with, too. Um, do you want a happy story or a things-could-be-worse story?"

"The knots are over my chest, so you won't be able to reach them. They were impressed that we got loose, once they'd finished cursing me out over it and grilling me about you and Archer." Clark laughed darkly. "They're convinced that I'm the mad genius behind us escaping. Can you believe that? And they _really _didn't like that I know next to nothing about you two. I think you must be right that they're working for a third party; it seemed like they were trying to figure out what their employer wants with us. Not that I had any insights to offer."

Jughead winced. That explained the new bruises, and it also meant that Clark was in significantly more danger than he should be.

"Anyway, they made absolutely sure I couldn't get free a second time. And, uh, either type of story is fine. I just want you talking so that I know you're not about to kill us both by passing out and pulling this shoelace any tighter."

Clark's voice was surprisingly strong, in spite of their terrifying position. Perhaps the knowledge that there was absolutely nothing that they could do but wait had settled him down; Jughead could only speculate - and be grateful.

"Say something, Jones. I can only keep you alert if I know when you're fading, and I can't see you. Don't stop talking."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Jughead took another deep breath that seemed to startle Clark when even that small motion pulled against their tight bond. "I'll tell you about Trigger. That's actually both types of stories at the same time."

"Great. Just keep talking." Clark let out a long, slow breath. "And tell me if you start to cramp or need to shift your position. It's fine if you do; just let me know right away and don't try to tough it out or fix it on your own. We'll figure it out together."

"Okay. I will. You too." Jughead closed his eyes against the thought of trying to adjust his body weight - or Clark's - with so little give in the noose around their necks and such limited ability to use their hands for support and stability. If they did lose their balance, they might not even be able to call out to their captors for help before they both choked to death.

"And, Clark, if we do have any… mishaps… just start screaming for help as loud as you can. That's what Brand always told me to do. He also says that if there's no way to escape, the goal is to stay alive and in one piece for as long as possible. He'll come as soon as he can."

"Fantastic; then that's what we'll do. We have a plan and we're going to be just fine. Archer will bring help, and Agent Davies can find us if anyone can. We've got this." Against all odds, Clark had definitely found his inner zen.

Jughead was impressed. He was determined to hold out for as long as he could, but had to admit that he had somewhat less faith in their ability to hold their strained position indefinitely.

Or maybe Clark had just been the first of them to reach the logical conclusion that pretending to be confident would keep them alive longer.

"Now... tell me about Trigger." Clark managed to pat Jughead's wrists encouragingly. "I love dogs. I don't think I ever told you that before. What breed is he?"

"He's a German Shepherd. He's still mostly a puppy, but he's just about full grown now." Jughead focused on Clark's appreciative 'mmmm' response. "He's got this really intelligent-looking face, and he loves tennis balls."

"Oh, nice. That's such a great breed, and I love that age. How's his training going? Are you crate training him?"

"No crates; that's a long story. We're on a strict schedule, though, and that's been working out well," Jughead began to explain. "He went through a lot before I adopted him."

"Rescues are the best." Clark sounded like he was actually smiling.

"Definitely." Jughead didn't quite smile, but he could feel that his heartbeat was slowing to be closer to normal. "When I first met him, he had a family. I didn't know anything about them at the time, but they were happy to let me walk Trig for them."

They both settled in for the story.

**00000**

The van doors flew open with no warning, startling the captives.

Clark and Jughead each grabbed the other's wrists painfully tightly in an effort to keep the other from pulling against the bootlace.

"_Finally_; you were a royal pain to find. We'd better get paid real good for all this hassle." A Serpent whom Jughead thought he might recognize from swimming at Crystal Lake in the spring climbed into the back of the van. He was wielding a large knife.

The Serpent let out a low whistle as he took in the visual of Clark and Jughead noosed together. "These guys were not messing around. Man, you two look cozy. Should I leave you like this while we call your dad, Jughead? I'm at least getting a picture for FP; that should make this a real good sell for us."

Both Clark and Jughead stared at him, eyes wide, as the Serpent held up a phone and took a photo of their predicament. Apparently the Serpents had located the bombers - and wanted to take their own shot at holding them for ransom.

"Ha. I'm only kidding. I'll untie you and your FBI agent. But if you could act real scared and manage a few more tears," the Serpent swiped a rough hand over the tear tracks on Jughead's face, ignoring his furious glare, "that would probably get us some points."

The Serpent cut the noose and both Jughead and Clark immediately slumped with relief. Jughead's zip ties quickly followed, with just a single jerking yank of the sharp knife.

Jughead slid across the slippery metal of the van's floor, away from the Serpent who had cut him loose. He rubbed his wrists and then his aching elbows while a second Serpent climbed into the van and the two gang members worked together to slice through the ropes holding Clark's arms to his sides.

Moments later they were both untied.

They had no idea where they were, how many Serpents waited outside of the van, where the carjackers were, or what might happen next.

But when Jughead threw himself onto the larger Serpent and started pulling one of the man's arms behind him painfully - forcing him to drop his knife - while kicking the back of his knee with every ounce of strength he had left, Clark caught on quickly to the impromptu plan.

Clark was able to use the element of surprise to shove the other Serpent out of the back of the vehicle. Jughead was right behind him when Clark jumped out, losing his unlaced boot in the process, to do his best to fight for their freedom.

Clark found himself outmatched by the Serpent and took a painful hit to his side, but Jughead calmly ducked a swing and then landed a damaging blow to the man's abdomen, laying him out groaning on the pavement. Then Jughead began tugging Clark toward the front of the van, wincing as pain started to overwhelm even the double dose of painkillers he'd been given.

"You think the keys are in it?"

"Start praying, Jones. You look like a ghost, by the way - if there are keys, I'm driving."

"They made me take two pills. I'm actually feeling it less now, but they're strong," Jughead confirmed.

As they scrambled into the front of the van, Clark took the driver's seat and both cheered when they saw keys dangling from the ignition - and the vehicle started right up.

Then the sound of movement on metal caused them both to freeze momentarily.

"I think that was the other Serpent getting out of the back." Jughead pushed Clark's shoulder impatiently. "Go, Clark - we have to go _now_."

Clark jammed the gas pedal down, and they careened through an abandoned parking lot toward the street.

They were free. They'd managed to stay alive. They just needed to figure out where they were, and then get back to the FBI.

**00000**

**Can I claim this as 'less of a cliffhanger than it could have been' since I didn't stop one scene sooner? :-D I'll be loving your notes (any and all are encouraging and enjoyed!), and I really appreciate your reading along. I've got a big job over the next chapter - or maybe two (I think we're getting there!), so your good wishes are very much appreciated. I hope you have a wonderful weekend!**

**-Button**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one! And I think the next one will finish us off. So close! :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, thanks so much for the lovely review! I really enjoyed your response to Tall Boy, and FP navigating his undercover role - and his freaking-out-dad role at the same time. :) Archie continues to come into his own (and is getting his own adventure!), and he's had great role models for managing conflict and working with others. Even if it doesn't always work quite as expected/hoped. :) And yes, I think the Helgasons are troubling, but not wholly unsympathetic. We'll see how things go for them! And actually, your comment that Jughead and Clark did not expect any of this when they became interns jogged my memory... because Jughead sort of did (not the horrifying parts) when he assumed he'd be "working with a bunch of Brands" early on. This really has become a 'be careful what you wish for' tale. :-D I continue to be really glad that you love Clark, too. He's SO much fun to write! And yep - end game is almost here for this story. One more chapter, I think!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Gunnar's dad was not thrilled. He'd lowered the gun, which would have been good news if he'd, like, unloaded it and put it away.

He had not.

Archie bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet as he waited for Mr. Helgason to decide his fate. The fact that they'd relocated to the half-finished basement was making this all a little scarier, too.

"I _had_ to get him out of sight or everyone would have-," Gunnar was still trying to defend his actions. Archie was beginning to wonder why he even bothered.

"You should have left him outside. Let him bang on the door, whatever. We can't get the stench on us, Gunnar, or we'll never get it off."

"Look, I really, really appreciate-," Archie began, in Gunnar's defense.

"Shut up." The gun came up whenever Mr. Helgason addressed Archie. That was a scary side effect of trying to talk his way out of this.

"He just needs a ride to somewhere he can get picked up." Gunnar crossed his arms, repeating his argument yet again. Archie was reminded of the definition of insanity, but hey - Gunnar knew his father. Maybe he had special insight into how this strategy might eventually work. "I can take your car, he can keep his head down in the back seat, and I'll be back in ten minutes or less. Okay?"

"Not okay. We're waiting until it gets darker before we even consider anything like that, and let's not forget that we need to have a serious chat about exactly what he plans to say to anyone about the Serpents - or the FBI."

"Only good things." Archie raised his hands in the air when the gun came up again.

"Try _nothing_." Mr. Helgason glowered.

"I will say nothing." Archie nodded quickly. "I got lost. Really lost."

Mr. Helgason raised his eyebrows.

"I'll practice and make that more believable."

Mr. Helgason considered him. "So, you think you understand the position we're in?" He gestured between himself and his son.

"Yeah. I really think I do. Because I'm basically in the same one," Archie responded soberly.

"How on _earth _do you figure you are in the same position?" Mr. Helgason looked deeply skeptical, but also a little intrigued by that idea.

"Someone betrayed us, and we aren't sure who. The Serpents, the FBI, and maybe everyone around could be dangerous." Archie gestured at the gun to underscore his point. "There's no way to get help safely without calling my family, which you're not letting me do - and I totally understand and respect your reasons why-" the gun was raised again "-but basically anything that remotely makes sense could create even more danger. I literally had to find someone who hates Jughead and me to be sure we wouldn't be betrayed a second time. It's… counterintuitive."

Mr. Helgason gave a surprised laugh at Archie's analysis of the situation. "Yeah. I guess it is."

Archie leaned back wearily on the ratty sofa in the chilly basement and rubbed his eyes. "So you want to wait until it's darker, and then drop me off somewhere? My friends need help as soon as possible. And, just to warn you, it is entirely possible that your neighborhood will be crawling with search parties by then. I'm not trying to brag, but I'm really popular."

Mr. Helgason frowned thoughtfully. "You know, that is a good point."

Archie had not expected that gambit to work. He looked up eagerly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Gunnar looked between them, clearly displeased that he'd been cut out of the conversation.

"Wait here. I'll be back. We might be able to smuggle you out of here." Mr. Helgason handed the gun to his son as he went back up the wooden basement stairs.

Gunnar sat on the steps with the gun.

Unfortunately he didn't look like he wanted to cross his father on this. Which, all things considered, seemed like an instinct that Archie couldn't fault him for.

"So... you play the drums?" Archie gestured up the staircase to indicate the drum set he'd noticed on his way to the shower.

"Can we not?" Gunnar gave him a look.

"Yeah. Sure." Archie shrugged and went back to sitting in silence. A minute or two passed. "Have you ever thought about finishing the rest of this basement?"

"You are insane."

"No, I work in construction," Archie attempted to explain. "It wouldn't take much to finish the rest, and that would probably really help with-,"

"_Shut up_." Gunnar aimed the gun aggressively and looked down the barrel at Archie.

"That is not how the pros hold a gun," Archie confided, giving him a knowing look. "Just for the record."

Gunnar stared at him, making a face as though he was not sure whether to be impressed by Archie's guts or disdainful of his foolishness.

Nevertheless, this time they both lapsed into silence.

**00000**

"Not everyone's addicted to GPS," Clark snapped at Jughead. "Read a map once in a while and you'll know where things are, too."

"I'm just saying, we don't know where we started and you haven't even been there before. We ran, like, five stoplights so that nobody would even think about carjacking us again, so I think we're safe. We should stop for directions at a store or something."

"We're not slowing down now. I'm telling you, I know where the field office is; we're almost there. Look, if it turns out that I'm wrong, we'll find a gas station and hope that it isn't crawling with people who want to hold you for ransom and shoot me in the head. I cannot _believe _everyone thinks I'm an FBI agent."

Jughead frowned nervously; Clark was right that the stakes were higher for him. It was a sobering thought. "Okay. You're right. We can keep driving. At least we still have half a tank of gas."

"Whoa." Clark steered the van around the next corner, ignoring horns blaring from almost every direction as they ran yet another red light. A huge structure was suddenly in view. "Huh. Maybe this _isn't_ the right place."

"Yeah, that looks like… a mall. Or a huge company headquarters." Jughead stared up at the impressive building.

"Hey, no - this is it. See the signage? We made it, Jones!" Clark pulled the van right up to the front doors, ignoring the signs prohibiting parking there, and he pulled Jughead with him through the driver's side door.

Jughead took a deep breath as a wave of dizziness and relief threatened to make his knees buckle, and Clark quickly grabbed his shoulders and supported him as they hurried through the doors as if they were seeking asylum. Which they kind of were.

And, just like that, they were in the field office. It was huge, and somehow the fact that every surface seemed to be a different shade of dark wood that had been polished until it gleamed under the elaborate light fixtures was deeply reassuring. This was clearly a place that had its act together.

But before Jughead could get to a phone or ask anyone for help getting to Brand and his dad, two security agents stopped Clark - and Agent Donn seemed to appear out of nowhere and took Jughead's arm. Donn smiled broadly as he forcefully whisked Jughead past security, down a wide hallway, and toward a set of office doors.

"You're back. Excellent, excellent. Someone see to it that the resident agency is notified that we've recovered the interns. That means all FBI personnel are accounted for; nice work, everyone," Donn gave the order that would surely reach Brand right away.

Jughead felt his shoulders drop with relief.

"Uh, Special Agent Donn-,"

"Shhh, Jones," Donn gave him a warning look that was only half hidden by a smile. "You've been through a lot today. We'll get you a shower. Have you call your father. And your godfather. But first you and I are going to take a few minutes to debrief together."

Jughead's eyes widened and he shot a look over his shoulder at the array of pleased and proud faces watching their formerly missing intern being taken under the wing of their most senior agent. Clark looked confused, and he was gesturing toward Jughead while clearly trying to explain something to the two security personnel who were detaining him.

The office door closed behind them.

**00000**

"Gunnar lives here?" Alice looked around at the suburban street. The houses were small, but the lawns well-kept and the vibe was decidedly homey and domestic. It was almost like they were not in the Southside at all.

"This is the face of the resistance," Sweet Pea intoned mockingly. "Well-kept lawns for justice. Lower-middle-class nirvana."

"I cannot wait to see the place you're throwing stones from." Alice was gratified when Sweet Pea frowned in response to her stab in the dark. Either his place was similar, or it was embarrassing in some way - and Alice would bet on the latter. Sweet Pea didn't seem like the kind of guy who vacuumed once a week.

"So, are we just walking around hoping we see them lying in a ditch or something?" Sweet Pea asked gruffly.

"We're also hoping they see us, since they're probably looking for a friendly face. And a phone." Alice gave Sweet Pea a look. "Text Betty again, and find out what's going on with Davies. Let her know we haven't seen anything yet."

"I am not going to live-tweet this whole thing," Sweet Pea protested.

"Wow. Could you be any more difficult?" Alice gave him a deeply frustrated look.

"You know what? Never mind. I'll make sure everyone's totally updated." Sweet Pea's expression looked dangerous for a moment. Then he lifted his phone and lit up in an overly friendly smile. His tone dripped with sarcasm. "Hello! Thanks for tuning in. We're just taking a walk in the neighborhood after dark, hoping to find someone lying in a ditch. Say hello, Alice!"

Alice didn't flip off the camera, since she wasn't sure she wanted footage of that in existence, let alone in Sweet Pea's possession, but she seriously considered it for a moment.

"We want to welcome you to yet another episode of 'Getting Nowhere With Alice.' Let me talk you through the absolutely nothing that has happened so far. We're coming up to the end of a block, and oh look, absolutely nothing again! This is wildly exciting. I'm so glad we could share it with-,"

"That's enough. Stop." Alice grabbed Sweet Pea's phone and clicked off the video app. She was horrified to realize that she was smiling. "That's not funny, and it's not helping us get information or find anyone."

"I'll do some cute editing later, Alice. Obviously."

Alice swatted Sweet Pea's arm. He grinned down at her.

It was only when their lips met that Alice realized that she was leaning in just as much as - maybe even more than - Sweet Pea was.

And then a car turned onto the street and stopped in front of the house that they had been heading toward. Agent Davies and FP Jones got out.

"Quick, get down," Alice pulled Sweet Pea down so they were obscured behind a parked car. "We must have been on the right track. They can probably take it from here, but let's wait and see what happens."

"I think we _were _on the right track, yes." Sweet Pea's mind was clearly somewhere else; he was still grinning at Alice.

"Shut up." Alice gave him a look. But it wasn't the worst feeling in the world when she peered through the vehicle's windows to watch Davies and FP, and Sweet Pea rested a hand protectively on her left shoulder.

**00000**

There was a loud, insistent knock on the front door.

Archie and Gunnar locked eyes.

And suddenly they were fighting over the gun, even though Archie truly hadn't had a thought in his head of going for it.

Archie recalled a vicious elbowing move that Brand had told him never to use if he wasn't trying to do serious damage, and he attempted it on Gunnar as hard as he could. They both fell onto the basement stairs, and Archie managed to wrest the gun away from him in the process.

Archie rolled and ended up lying at the bottom of the stairs, but he had the gun aimed steadily at Gunnar. "Go answer the door. Tell them I'm here."

"Look, my dad-," Gunnar made no move to ascend the stairs.

"Now!" Archie yelled. The knocking suddenly went nuts; whoever was at the front door must have heard him.

"Seriously, I think it's a bad idea-," Gunnar was still protesting.

"Can you maybe just answer the door before I'm forced to - I don't know - _shoot you_?" Archie felt himself starting to lose it. This was not going to end well if Gunnar didn't get an instinct of self-preservation really quickly.

The door at the top of the basement stairs burst open.

Suddenly there were two more guns in the mix. Archie backed away with his hands up before he fully processed that these were friendly new arrivals on the scene. Brand and FP were swiftly descending the stairs.

"I am totally and completely fine." Archie figured he'd get that out of the way while everyone was tensely looking one another over. FP had grabbed his shoulder and was standing between Archie and Gunnar as he visibly tried to piece together what was happening. It did not appear that Archie's dad had come along for the rescue. "And, uh, this is my friend Gunnar. He took me in and helped me, even though I, like, blackmailed him and then held him and his dad at gunpoint. Oh, and their phones are broken."

Gunnar looked at Archie as if he thought he had lost his mind.

So did Mr. Helgason, who was about halfway down the stairs and frozen in place at the sight of so many guns in all of the wrong people's hands.

"I'm not real sorry about it, because we need to find Jug; he is messed up without his pills." Archie made a face. "I did what I had to do. But the Helgasons don't deserve to get dragged into... everything."

"We'll sort this out later," Brand growled suspiciously. Apparently he was not taken in by Archie's innocent expression. "Everyone sit down right where you are and keep your hands where I can see them. FP, can you disarm Andrews before someone gets shot? I'm calling for backup. Andrews, where are Jones and Clark?"

"They escaped with me from a building a few blocks that way-," Archie pointed as he willingly relinquished the gun to FP, "-but we split up so I could get to help more quickly. Which did _not _work out the way we hoped."

"We haven't seen or heard from them." FP frowned, handing Archie's gun off to Brand before steering Archie toward the couch and motioning for him to sit down. "The bombers might be trying to use Jughead and Clark as insurance to get themselves out of town."

Sweet Pea and Alice suddenly appeared on the stairs behind Mr. Helgason.

"I can help," Sweet Pea offered. "Hey, FP."

FP gave Sweet Pea a curt wave, even though he seemed irritated to see him and Alice.

"You are not backup. Go upstairs." Brand glowered. He began dialing on his phone.

"You know Sweet Pea?" Archie asked FP before focusing on his friend from school. He waved at Sweet Pea and then at Alice as they turned to go back up the stairs. "Nice jacket, Alice."

"Hey, hey, easy there; why don't you sit down, Red." FP pointed toward the couch a second time. He holstered his own gun - because for some reason he had both a gun and a shoulder holster just like Brand's, which was distracting. "You might be in shock."

"No, I'm fine-," Archie felt a little dizzy, actually. His heart was still racing, too, even though it was obvious that everything was all right now. He was safe; Brand and FP had found him and now they would find Jughead and Clark and they could all go home. Archie tried to take a step forward and was surprised when he stumbled over his own feet.

"Come on." FP steered him more insistently toward the couch. "Call for an ambulance, Brandon. I think Archie's going to go down if we're not careful."

Brand finished his conversation on the phone. "Already on its way, FP. How in the world did you manage to get a shower, Andrews?"

Brand and FP were as filthy and dirt-streaked as they had been directly after the explosion - maybe more -, while Archie looked like he'd just showered after getting off a basketball court. The shorts and sports jersey he was inexplicably wearing probably contributed to that impression.

"Oh, uh, they're good hosts," Archie gestured to the Helgasons again as he sat down. "These are Gunnar's clothes, I think. They have great water pressure, too. If we're going to be here for a while, you should check it out."

"Yeah, you're in shock all right." FP pushed Archie's shoulders back so that he was leaning into the sofa cushions. "Just relax; we don't need you passing out. Your father's over at the office buildings, so we'll send him straight to the hospital to meet you."

Brand was still watching everyone closely, probably in case they had hidden weapons, and now that he'd set down his phone he held a gun in each hand.

"Brand's dual wielding," Archie observed. "Very cool."

"Just sit still." FP shot Brand another worried look as he spoke to Archie. "Take deep breaths."

"Whoa. My phone's going nuts." Brand set one gun down and pulled out his phone again. He sucked in a breath as he read the messages on his phone. "FP, they've got him. They found Jones. He's all right. Clark's with him and refusing to leave his side."

"Where are they?" FP was up and off the couch in a moment and pulling out his own cell phone, which he'd retrieved from Fred and Agent Quinn. What he saw on the screen from an unknown number made his heart skip a beat - and then begin racing. "Who took a _photo _of him tied to Clark with some kind of... choke chain?"

"A _what_? I wasn't sent any pictures. I'll get the report and we'll find out, FP. Maybe it was a joke? Apparently they're at the field office. They're keeping Jones there until we get backup here. Then we can go pick him up." Brand's expression was tentative as he continued. "I'll drive you if you're willing to wait; I could really use another person here."

"Can I at least talk to him?" FP ran a hand through his hair; he began pacing in a tight circle as he weighed the situation. "Get him on the phone?"

"Let me see what I can do." Brand began texting with one hand.

**00000**

"Jughead?"

"Dad?" Jughead was finally on the phone. His dad had picked up. He had to fight tears at the sound of his father's voice; nothing had seemed like it was heading in this direction - toward safety, and toward getting back to his dad in one piece -, but here he was.

It was all going to be okay now.

"Jug, are you all right? We were told that you're at the field office, but I also received a very disturbing photo of you and Clark. Are you safe? Is Clark with you, right this second? I want you to stay with him and keep your distance from Donn. We'll come and pick you up. We need someone to take over for us where we are right now, and then we'll be on our way."

"I'm fine, Dad. Clark's fine. The bombers were holding us, and then the Serpents tried to kidnap us away from them to get ransom money from you - I think they must have taken the photo you got -, but we fought them. We got away."

"The Serpents did _what_?" FP's jaw dropped. Either Jughead had woefully misinterpreted the situation, or every last Serpent was going to be rotting in a jail cell within the hour.

"That's the kind of people you ran with, Dad." Jughead's tone was filled with bitterness before he continued his rushed explanation. "But we're fine now. We're even getting showers soon; this place is nice. They told me you found Archie and that he's all right. And Dad, Agent Donn's leaving."

"You mean he's… going home for the night?" FP did not dare hope that Jughead meant more than that.

"He's leaving the area. Permanently."

"_Finally_. That's great news, Jug. Hey, people are showing up here now; I'll be on my way in ten minutes or less, okay? Shower quickly and then you stick close to someone you know - Clark is fine. Just... stay away from Donn. I'm going to put Brandon on the phone for a minute. I'll see you real soon. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad." Jughead choked up again.

"Kid?" Brand's voice came on the line. "Is anything wrong? Just say yes or no; I know you're probably not alone."

"No. I'm fine. Everything's okay." Jughead bit his lip. He fingered the small cellphone in his pocket. "Donn's leaving."

There was a silence.

"Brand? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, kid. Sit tight. We'll talk more when you're home. You did good. Nice work." Brand sounded worried and relieved at the same time.

Jughead wondered if Brand suspected the deal that was getting Donn out of the area, away from him and away from his dad. The deal that would allow Brand more autonomy and more options.

The deal that involved a burner phone that Jughead would check regularly, with orders that he obeyed promptly.

Or perhaps no messages at all, ever. That was a possibility, according to Donn.

Not that Jughead was going to hold his breath on that.

"Brand, will you come to the field office to pick me up? With Dad?" Jughead heard a quaver in his voice and hoped that Brand missed it.

"What are you talking about, Jones? I always come for you, whether you like it or not. That's our deal." Brand snorted. "Your dad is the only one under the mistaken impression that he should respect your _preferences_, even though you're seventeen and don't know what you're talking about most of the time. You should know by now that I just do what needs to be done."

FP rolled his eyes, clearly irritated that Brand was engaging in conversation at a time like this.

Jughead laughed shakily. "Yeah. I guess so. Thanks."

"Don't thank me. This is one of my worst qualities." Brand's smirk was obvious in his tone.

"Well, have you ever thought that maybe that's the reason why dating isn't going well for you?" Jughead smirked in response as he relaxed into bantering with his godfather.

"Uh, Jones," Brand sounded even more amused, "I'm not dating seventeen year olds. The women I see know what they want."

FP started motioning impatiently for him to get off of the phone.

"Well, when will I graduate to you treating me like that?" Jughead's words were teasing, but he was also curious about Brand's answer.

"You're working on it, kid." Brand's voice lost most of its teasing tone, and instead he sounded affectionate and pleased. "You just asked me to come get you, right? That's the start of an improved track record of decision-making." Brand was silent for a moment. "So don't screw it up, eh?"

"I'll do my best."

"I have to hang up now, before your father kills me. We'll drive fast."

"Sounds good. Bye, Brand." Jughead smiled as he hung up.

**00000**

"MacGyver?" Clark called over from the other end of the gym showers at the field office. This building was amazing in comparison to their RA. "What did Donn mean about my being read into too much stuff by Davies? Is this about the chicken pox?"

Jughead wasn't sure, but he had a very bad feeling about it. Donn had ushered him into his office and closed the door, but just as he'd gone to lock it behind them, the door had burst open.

And hit him in the eye.

And Clark had not seemed penitent in the slightest.

Two security guards were right behind him, but they seemed more confused than upset by the situation ("Did you want to talk to both interns, Special Agent Donn?" one was asking) and they did not stop Clark when he entered the office and made a point of placing himself physically between Jughead and Donn.

He was still following Brand's order to stay together.

Agent Donn had been furious when Clark refused to budge, and Jughead had experienced a few moments of blind panic over the situation.

Then reality had hit him: they were in the field office. There was nothing Donn could do. There were witnesses in the room with them, and everyone knew that they were there. Jughead was safe; Clark was safe.

And then Donn had waved off the security guards, locked the door anyway, and said something cryptic about Brand reading Clark into too much.

And his father.

Jughead's blood had run cold. His dad was profoundly irritated that Brand refused to tell him anything. Donn had bad information.

Dangerously bad information.

"No. My dad doesn't know anything. Clark doesn't know anything. Really. They're trying to help, but nobody told them _anything_. I swear," Jughead had pled with Donn to believe him.

Clark had tried to assure Donn of the same thing, no doubt thinking this was a matter of classified information and that Jughead was being accused of sharing intelligence that he was not supposed to.

But the damage had already been done.

Jughead had suddenly realized what Brand had unintentionally set into motion: he'd used Clark to protect Jughead, and in so doing he'd put Clark directly in Agent Donn's sights. Maybe Rose's sights as well.

It didn't matter what Clark did or did not know. He was in danger now.

And so was Jughead's dad.

When Clark had reluctantly agreed to Donn's grudging compromise that he maintain visual contact but let Donn chat with Jughead privately behind glass doors (which set everyone on edge, since Clark paced like a neurotic zoo animal), a whole lot had been made clear very quickly.

Donn was not responsible for the carjacking. Brand's instinct of keeping Jughead from ever being alone with Donn had been right on the money, and had frustrated the SAC into opportunistically trying to grab Jughead from Southside High - but not in order to hurt him. Donn had been sent not only to aid in the FBI investigation involving the Southside, but also to make an end run around Brand.

In order to set up direct contact between Rose and Jughead.

Which was a bone-chillingly terrifying prospect.

"MacGyver?" Clark repeated. "Seriously, he looked upset. Do I need to worry about my clearance?"

"No, Clark." Jughead turned his shower slightly hotter, hoping that would help him get rid of the sensation of his skin crawling as he reflected on all of this. "I don't think you need to worry about your clearance. But, um, where do you live?"

"Okay. Whew. That's good to hear. This whole thing has gotten so weird. I've got a studio apartment a few miles east of the RA; it's about halfway between my school and the agency's offices. Why?"

An apartment building would be difficult to secure. Donn probably already knew where he lived, and Clark could easily disappear the way Trigger had.

Or the way Agent Russell had.

"Just curious." Jughead would need to ask Brand about this. And probably his dad, too, though that would be trickier.

It really wasn't a viable long-term solution to bring everyone he cared about into their home, and under their protection - such as it was -, but just this once Jughead hoped that they could consider taking Clark into protective custody.

Just to be on the safe side.

**00000**

**Woo-hoo! Most of the pressing things are resolved... but not quite everything is wrapped up... I'll be pulling the pieces together for the final chapter of ST and enjoying any and all reviews. Thanks for reading! I hope you have a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	22. Chapter 22

**Woo-hoo! We made it! :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, thanks so much - I was immensely glad to hear that everyone's individual personality has been shining through! I have been so delighted by your feedback on that this week; it made me smile a great deal - almost as much as your feedback about Alice and Sweet Pea. :) I often feel like it's the riskiest thing to mix an OC romantically with a canon character, but I was also disappointed by the Sweet Pea/Josie arc being so dismissive of SP, and this has felt a lot more like the arc he should have. Yay for a seconding of that instinct! Alice and Sweet Pea's arc is definitely going to take some time, but that's always a lot of the fun. :) I hope you continue to enjoy their dynamic just as much! And yeah, we're definitely having our first major move from Brand shielding Jughead post-AWP to everyone being under more direct fire. I love that it has you shuddering/excited and I'm really looking forward to letting that arc have its head. I also love the idea of Jug et al. adopting Clark - your caps were well-received. :-D Clark would be SO excited to get the full Brand experience, just as a start... :-D **

**Skyrider45, welcome back! You were missed, but never forgotten - and what a reentry! Thank you for the wonderful reviews, and it _was_ really nice that there was a brand-new chapter for you. :) I hope work lightens up soon for you! No pressure, but I'll love reading when you're back to posting. :) You highlighted some moments that I really enjoyed writing, too, which I always love. FP playing with matches has been one of my perpetual mental images for him with the Serpents, and yeah... the school's E-mail is inspired by messages I've received IRL that were wildly inadequate. :-D I also really enjoyed hearing your reaction to Brand navigating the explosion aftermath - it was a very different (brief) scene in tone and tenor, and I was glad to hear it was effective even to you (I always recall your connoisseur-level reads of action scenes - and try to keep my game strong! :). "Anxiety sass" was a new phrase for me, but I will recall it. :) I'm so glad you're attached to Clark, too. I adore him, but that's always dangerous with an OC and I am glad he's been winning readers over too. :-D And yes, here's the final chapter. Great timing!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Jughead was waiting anxiously by the time FP and Brand came jogging into the field office. When Jughead moved forward eagerly to be caught up in his dad's arms, Brand wrapped them both in a hug and ignored FP's longsuffering sigh in favor of returning his godson's affectionate grin.

"You reassure your father real good, kid, because I'm next." Brand let them both go and gave them space for a fuller reunion while he approached Clark.

"Thanks for everything you did today. That was way above and beyond, Clark. I owe you." Brand gave him a nod and clapped a hand on his right shoulder.

"Thank you, sir. It was what anyone would have done." Clark flushed with pleasure, but then eyed him uncomfortably. "Um, Jones told me that you're his godfather."

"Ah." Brand did not offer any further response.

"So, uh, I think there are some things you should know about. You might want to take Jones to get some counseling or see a psychiatrist or something. We had some... intense moments today."

Brand's eyebrows shot up. "You've got my attention."

Clark explained. Brand felt his hands twitching as he listened and processed what Clark was telling him; he looked over to where FP was talking quietly to Jones and not letting go of him.

During their drive to the field office, they'd called ahead to make sure everyone knew not to greet FP too obviously in front of Jones and Clark (apparently the old man had made some friends), and then they'd gotten word from two Serpents that Jones and Clark had fought like their lives depended on it and gotten away in dramatic fashion when the Serpents had attempted a rescue. And that something "that might have sounded kinda bad" had been said - and supposedly wildly misinterpreted - in the process.

FP was still angry about the photo and suspicious that there were more ulterior motives in play than were being shared, but Brand figured that the odds were good that Clark and Jones had indeed panicked and gotten the wrong impression.

It sounded like something they would do.

However, if he was entirely truthful, Brand was darn proud that Jones hadn't taken the gang at their word and gone along quietly. Given the limited information that the kid had at the time, that would have been foolish.

Instead, Jones taking his shot at commandeering a vehicle and getting himself and Clark to the field office was exactly what Brand would have done in the situation. It made him feel warm inside just thinking about it.

Even though FP was still a little hung up on Jones' decision to run from the Serpent retrieval team straight into Donn's territory, which was at least a slightly legitimate worry (and one that Brand had to admit he shared), there was something reassuring about seeing his own instincts and decision-making mimicked successfully by his godson.

Honestly, this felt a whole lot like one of those rewarding parenting moments when months of hard work had paid off, and Brand was savoring it.

Not that any of that erased the obvious damage: the kid was deathly pale as he clung to his father, and Clark's report that he'd been forced to overdose and then held down and traumatized for sport by the bombers (before the two had been left to fend for themselves in a deathtrap until they were either exhausted or rescued; Brand was intensely grateful that the carjackers had not told the two that they were being abandoned to their fate while the criminals skipped town) was entirely believable.

It was also troubling to see Clark's fingers return again and again to very faint ligature marks on his own throat. The intern didn't seem aware that he was doing it, but Brand felt it in his gut when he finally put two and two together with the story he was being told.

Brand was also pretty sure he'd have to get the kid's father alone and make a plan, because they were not living through another three months of nightly screaming. Not if Brand could help it.

And, gallingly, the order not to go after the men who had carjacked the kid was almost guaranteed to be coming.

Because Brand was virtually certain that Jones and Clark had been held by people who were at least indirectly on Donn's payroll. They'd taken advantage of the explosion and chaos, suggesting that Donn had known - and kept quiet - advance knowledge of the Serpent faction's attack on Southside High. They had even managed to use the situation to camouflage Donn's own mission: pulling Brand and FP away from the investigation and giving Donn an advantage with Rose.

Unless Brand could get his report in to the FBI first, making sure that there was no way the bureau could find any excuse to refrain from following up, Rose would bury this and nobody would even give chase to the men who'd been involved in the carjacking.

So, Brand resolved silently, he'd get his report in before he slept.

"Clark, I wonder if I could ask you for another huge favor. This isn't something I would normally work with an intern on, but you're someone I trust and I'm starting to think that you have good instincts - and you're definitely good with people who are having a rough time."

Brand had an inkling that this would actually kill two birds and not just the one he was telling Clark about. He was increasingly uncomfortable with sending the intern home alone after everything he'd dragged Clark into. "We've got an informant who could use a place to stay that's off the radar. I'll see that you get something for rent, and it will be good experience for you to get to know him."

"Absolutely. Yes, sir." Clark perked up with pride at being trusted with the responsibility. "It would be an honor."

"Let me know if he gives you any trouble at all, but he worships the ground Jones' father walks on and I hear he's scared out of his mind by the situation he's landed himself in. I'd be shocked if he so much as left a dish out of the dishwasher on you."

"I'll be in touch with you if we have any issues, but I'll do my best, sir." Clark nodded. "It's just a studio apartment, but it's got room for two if he's not picky."

"He's not," Brand assured him. "And see that you get some professional support; you've had quite the day too. Agent Quinn will probably be the one to handle your debriefing, and she can refer you to someone decent. You make sure it's just the one day of trauma you're dealing with, huh?"

"I will, sir. Thank you, sir." Clark smiled gratefully at the acknowledgement of his own harsh experiences.

Brand patted Clark on the shoulder a second time and then gingerly touched one of the larger bruises on the side of the intern's face with a sympathetic wince. "Thank you again for taking this on the chin - literally. Jones is tough, but he looks like a stiff wind could shatter him right now."

"He _is_ tough. Believe it or not, he looked even worse when he was taking down two Serpents with very little help from me." Clark looked over at the kid and his father. "He's got more fight in him than he lets on, so I wouldn't worry too much. I was proud to work alongside him today."

That made Brand smile.

Brand waited patiently for FP to finish up whatever he was telling the kid, and then he walked over and drew his godson into another hug. "Hey, killer. We'll talk more later. I want to hear about Donn, but not right now. Not here." Jones nodded. "You three scared the crap out of me. Explosives?"

"I know. The one thing you never wanted to teach me about. Sorry. In case it helps, we were slightly worried too, Brand." Jughead leaned into his godfather and Brand began rubbing a hand over his head out of habit. "I'm okay, Brand. No new bumps. And Archie reminded us that you were on the case. That helped."

"Only three steps behind this time," Brand replied ruefully, still running a hand through Jughead's hair and wondering idly what exactly was making his godson so ghostly pale. He was probably hungry among other things, but he looked almost terminally ill. The meds must have really messed him up. "Thankfully you guys pulled out all the stops. Andrews even had possession of a handgun by the time we stopped his rampage through the Southside. Don't forget to ask your dad about that."

Jughead grinned up at Brand. "I will. And I'll help you with paperwork tomorrow."

"Nah, kid. Take the day off; you look like death warmed over. And we're sending your friend Joaquin home with Clark, since the punk turned state's evidence and needs a place to stay, so that situation should be tabled for a day or two - which means that your dad can spend some quality time with you. I bet he'll be getting a day or two off from Andrews Construction, and he seems shaken up."

That was probably true on all counts.

"Okay. That's good about Joaquin staying with Clark. You'll be coming back to the house, right? You're not just doing all the paperwork and then going back to Canada, are you?"

"Wow. Again with the abandonment issues, Jones." Brand squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "First of all, I'll probably be banished to telecommute for a few days while the powers that be decide if I screwed things up too badly today. So I'll be underfoot, and you won't be able to get rid of me. Spoiler alert: they usually find something to yell at me about. Second of all, you and I have to do _something _fun together before I leave town. I'll make it happen; I promise."

Jughead lit up as soon as he heard the word 'promise,' and Brand tousled his hair again. "Yeah, I'm serious about it, kid. I didn't come all this way just to work and then blow you off for some fancy new case in Toronto. And I'm virtually certain that I'll be home all day tomorrow, even if I have to have my laptop open most of the time. Deal?"

"Deal." Jughead gave Brand one last squeeze and then turned toward his father. "Did you have to bring your bike? I can ride home with you, Dad."

"Yeah, right. You are barely upright, boy." FP chuckled. "I borrowed a car. Let's get you home. It's getting late and I'm hungry; you've got to be ravenous. Maybe it's time we tried ordering a pizza."

"Clark and I cleaned out the bowl of chocolates at the front desk," Jughead gave a sheepish wave to one of the people working behind the desk and she waved back across the lobby with a warm smile, "but yeah - I'm definitely still hungry." Jughead thought for a moment. "Can we get Pop's too?"

"Why not?" Brand nodded agreeably. "Let's get going, though, before your dog reenacts _The Great Escape_ and digs a hole from the basement to the back yard."

**00000**

Jughead eyed his pill nervously.

And then a tennis ball flew past his head.

"Brand, _cut it out_!" Jughead called toward the hallway as Trigger launched past him, over his bed, and skidded into the wall with a yip of dismay before retrieving the ball and bounding back out of the room. "Just get him to run up and down the stairs. That will wear him out faster anyway."

"But this is so much more entertaining." Brand leaned into Jughead's bedroom. "You settled in for the night yet?"

Jughead shrugged and sat down on the side of his bed. Brand joined him, tossing a second tennis ball out of the room at an angle so that it would bounce down the stairs.

They looked at the pill together, and Brand pulled Jughead against his shoulder in a light hug. "You have to take it. You'll be in too much pain otherwise."

They'd gotten home and eaten dinner with all the speed dictated by their powerful hunger. Pop Tate had even thrown in some treats for Trig, who had not yet wound down from the excitement of their very late arrival home.

Brand sighed when Jughead made no move to swallow the pill. "You have some time; there's no rush. Let me get your dad's cot set up and then we can talk about what Clark told me at the field office."

"Oh man, you don't need to bring the cot-,"

"It's for your father, Jones. He's not okay." Brand gave Jughead a worried look. "I know you're one hundred percent fine, and not at all scared to go to sleep or take painkillers that might slow you down, but your father's going to need a nightlight and a roommate for a few nights. I'll try to talk him down - get him a blankie or something - if he's still in here through the weekend, but you should cut him some slack for a few days. Stick close until he feels a little more secure."

"Brandon?" Jughead heard his dad calling suspiciously from the hallway. He must have overheard part of what Brand had been saying.

"We're all set, FP. I'm getting the cot for you first, and then I'll set up some bedding on the floor for me."

"Brand-," Jughead began to protest again.

"I may look tough, but I need some time to recover too." Brand shrugged innocently. "You're lucky that Clark isn't pulling up a sleeping bag, but he's got his hands full with DeSantos. I'll work on my laptop; you'll barely notice I'm here. Think about whether you want Trigger on the bed with you, or on the floor."

"Definitely the floor."

Jughead had curled up with Trig while they all ate, patting him and giving him reassurances that Brand was fairly certain the dog did not need, but apparently the 'bed hog' verdict was still in effect.

"You got it. I'll get his dog bed."

Jughead wrapped his arms around himself as Brand left his room. He looked down at the pill in his hand again, and then set it on his bedside table, carefully out of Trigger's reach.

FP walked in, carrying a tray of snacks and three steaming mugs of hot chocolate. "Want to watch a movie?"

"Dad, you're exhausted. Brand is exhausted." Jughead slid his pill out of the way so the tray would fit on his bedside table. "I don't think anyone's up for a movie."

"Andrews Construction will be closed for a few days. Probably the rest of the week. Brand can work while we watch, and I think he started a pot of coffee so he could get his reports started tonight." FP spread his hands welcomingly. "Come on, Jug; anything you want. I'll even sit through _Reservoir Dogs_ again."

"Rain check on that one... but how about _White Fang_?" Jughead waited for objections to follow.

"You just want to watch that dog of yours go nuts at all the animals. Or have PTSD flashbacks. Not that that isn't the best part of any movie-viewing experience," Brand joked as he reentered the room. "I've got the coffee brewing, FP. Not for you, kid. Hot chocolate sounds good right now, though."

"It has been a while since we watched that one. Got room on the bed for your old man? I'll take the cot after the movie's over, but your mattress is a lot better on my back as long as we're sitting."

"Sure. There's plenty of room." Jughead palmed his pain pill and selected a mug of cocoa. He caught Brand's eye as he kicked back the pill with a small sip that was more whipped cream than anything, and was rewarded when Brand winked at him.

"I'll try not to type too loudly, but no promises. I want this report in before anyone can 'request' that I tell things in a certain way." Brand left the room and returned a few moments later with FP's cot. He began assembling it while Jughead and his dad arranged pillows on the bed so that they could sit comfortably together.

"This is the life; we'll sack out and get some rest, but nobody has to get up in the morning. We can stay up all night if we want." FP dropped an arm around Jughead and then reached to lift his laptop onto the bed with his other hand. "There's a sequel to this one, right? I don't think I've ever seen it."

"The sequel's not too bad. We could watch it afterward if we're still not tired."

"The coffee's hot and strong." Brand quirked his eyebrows at Jughead from where he was finishing his quick assembly of the cot and getting out of the way for Trigger to jump up on it to watch the movie and eye the snack tray. "I'll be awake, even if the old man doesn't make it that far."

"We'll just see how far I make it." FP raised his chin in acknowledgement of the challenge.

Jughead relaxed into the pillows and took another sip of cocoa. "Whoa. This is _really _good, Dad."

"Dark chocolate cocoa." FP squeezed his shoulders. "We've got a lot of leftover brownies here, too, so eat up."

"Thanks, Dad. And Brand." Jughead looked from one to the other. "I'm really not scared to go to sleep. But this is nice."

"We also don't want to be on nightmare duty for a month," Brand confessed. "If we can short-circuit that by depriving you of sleep and plying you with chocolate and movies, that's a no-brainer."

"Re-eally. What else can I get this deal on?" Jughead grinned when his dad pushed his head forward playfully.

**00000**

Sure enough, FP had Thursday off to lie low; Jughead did not wake up until after eleven am, and so far their plan to prevent him from having nightmares was working.

Brand was asked to telecommute while his actions on Wednesday were 'reviewed,' so even though he had to work on his laptop for several more hours, he was able to stay at the house - and play chess with FP at the dining room table while he worked.

Jughead watched from where he was sprawled on the couch with Trigger, texting with his friends on his dad's phone.

"Neither of us is going anywhere," Brand finally said from where he was typing on his laptop while FP considered the chess board. "You don't have to maintain visual contact, kid."

"I know." Jughead looked over from the phone. "Is Dad beating you again?"

"Yeah." Brand smirked. "I have to let him win once in a while or he'll quit playing."

FP snorted.

"Will you teach me, Dad?"

"Oh, that's why you wanted to know? So you could be sure to have the better teacher?" Brand shook his head, amused. "Smart, Jones. Very smart. If you ever finish texting everyone you've ever met, come on over. You can learn a lot from a good match. And your father's making this a very good match."

"Just a minute." Jughead typed out another text and then set the phone down. "I think I'm missing something about it, because I know all the rules but I still lose every time."

"You've been playing your dad?" Brand asked.

"Yeah."

"It could be that you're not missing anything. He's just good at this." Brand studied FP as the older man made his move. "All right; I'm going to talk you through what he just did. You ready for this?"

"Hang on. I've got it, Brandon." FP spoke up. "Jug, you see where his queen is?"

Jughead watched his dad from where he was sitting on the couch and seemed to make a decision. "Wait a second. Let me come over there first."

FP slid his chair to the side to make room while Jughead moved a second dining room chair alongside his.

"Okay. Now show me." Jughead nudged FP's shoulder with his own as he scooted up close to the board. "I want to be able to shark Brand."

"That might take a game or two, but I think I can get you there." FP nodded sagely. He placed his right elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. Jughead mimicked his posture, leaning in toward the board as he did so.

Brand raised his eyebrows at them and finished off the Email he was working on. "All right, then. I see how it is. Time to bring my A game against the Joneses."

"You better, Brand." Jughead smirked. "We're a good team. Maybe even unbeatable."

This time it was FP who nudged Jughead's shoulder when they exchanged smiles.

**00000**

Going back to school on Friday was a little scary, but everything was so different that it ended up feeling… okay.

Lunch was the most different.

Jughead had expected to see Alice and Sweet Pea together, but when they sat down next to Veronica and Archie he was surprised and pleased. He gave Alice a nod and a flick of his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes but then grinned and motioned that she'd call him later. That sounded good; maybe it was time for Jughead to live vicariously through her adventures, which promised to be interesting with someone like Sweet Pea.

Who somehow knew his dad.

Jughead and Archie had checked in over the phone the previous day, comparing notes about Wednesday's adventures and trading stories from their respective house arrests on Thursday, and Jughead was still a little concerned by how evasive his dad had been when he'd asked him about Archie's report that FP knew Sweet Pea. It seemed like there were still secrets circulating.

Maybe Alice would know more.

"Hey! Come sit with us!" Archie flagged Gunnar down. Brand was completely frustrated by Archie's refusal to say anything against the Helgasons, resulting in neither father nor son being questioned or arrested, and even Jughead had not gotten much of that story out of Archie beyond "It seems really complicated, Jug. No offense."

Jughead honestly didn't think Gunnar would respond, let alone come over, so he was surprised when Gunnar sized them up and his eyes came to rest on Alice. He cocked his head to one side as if deciding that he had nothing to lose, and slid into the spot between Alice and Veronica.

Jughead watched with amused fascination as Gunnar struck up a conversation with Alice and Sweet Pea looked confused - and then mildly worried. That phone call was really going to be fun.

Betty leaned in toward Jughead and spoke very quietly. "Are you jealous?"

"Oh, yeah. I would love to have several people fighting for my affections," Jughead said solemnly. "Especially if they baked me cookies. Thanks again for that, Kevin."

"I am _not _fighting Betty for your affections, Jughead Jones," Kevin said. "You only wish. I am glad you liked the cookies, though." Kevin hesitated and then continued. "Also, on a related note, I wanted to let you both know that Joaquin and I are… talking. He actually has a lot of stories about, uh, his roommate."

Everyone was keeping Joaquin's location a secret, but Jughead knew that Joaquin had insisted on telling Kevin where he was. It was a lot of pressure to put on Kevin, and probably a scary step for Joaquin to take, but in this moment it seemed to Jughead that Joaquin had been right: the gesture had gone a long way toward laying a foundation for them to reconnect.

Betty rubbed Kevin's arm encouragingly. "That's really great, Kev. You obviously need to make sure that things are right for you. But I'm rooting for you two."

"Thanks, Betty." Kevin gave her a small smile. "We still need to schedule that boyfriend-free outing, too."

"Definitely." Betty grinned.

"Wow. I get ever-so-slightly damaged, and suddenly I'm useless to you?" Jughead pretended to pout and Betty turned and kissed him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa - that is quite enough of that. This is a family establishment. Besides which, that is _not_ how it's done," Archie said. Then he turned to Veronica and put a hand behind her neck before he drew her in for a long kiss - that was enthusiastically reciprocated.

"Wow, Archie. Are you trying to get us in trouble now that things have finally quieted down?" Alice asked with a teasing tone.

"You only live once. And I don't like getting bored," Archie grinned. Veronica ran a hand through his hair affectionately.

"Getting bored is definitely overrated," Veronica agreed.

**00000**

Jughead did enjoy the phone conversation with Alice. She was in high spirits, and clearly could not believe her own good fortune. Or perhaps Alice simply could not believe that she was experiencing anything approaching good fortune after the terrible year that she'd just endured.

Alice also disagreed with Jughead's observation that Gunnar was showing interest in her. "He doesn't even know me."

"Everyone knows you, Alice, at least a little bit. You're not invisible." It was taking time for Alice to get used to that, actually. "And I'm not saying he wants to fight Sweet Pea. He probably just wants to get to know you and then _decide_ about fighting Sweet Pea for you."

"You're an idiot. Or maybe he is. Sweet Pea definitely is." Alice was firm.

"This is going to be fun to watch." Jughead was grinning.

"Bite your tongue, Jonas."

Jughead laughed, but then he turned serious. "So, uh, I have been wondering one thing," Jughead finally raised the topic that had been bothering him. "How do Sweet Pea and my dad know each other? Do you know anything about that?"

There was a long silence. Jughead was suddenly a lot more worried.

"Um, has Agent Davies talked to you about what I told him at the resident agency?" Alice sounded reluctant.

"No."

"We-ell, your dad's been doing some stuff. Now, to be fair, I saw him come in guns blazing to find you - so to speak - when you were missing. So I want to give him the benefit of the doubt."

So far this made basically zero sense to Jughead. "But…?"

"But I saw him in the Southside. At the Whyte Wyrm."

"This past weekend?" Jughead guessed.

"Yeah. Really late Saturday night." Alice took a deep breath. "This is what happened…"

**00000**

"Dad?" Jughead burst out of his room. "_Dad_?"

"Hey, Jones, your father's downstairs-,"

Brand had been working on his laptop, but he got up to follow when Jughead skidded across the hardwood floor toward the stairs that led to the basement. Trigger was right on his heels, barking wildly in response to his owner's obvious agitation; the household was still in the process of calming down from the crazy week, and Trig remained deeply suspicious of any new development.

"Dad, what were you doing at the Whyte Wyrm on Saturday night?" Jughead was taking the stairs into the basement two at a time and his volume increased until he was almost shouting. "Did you bring _drugs _here? We could lose the house. You and Brand could go to _prison_. What are you _thinking_?"

FP set down the free weight he'd been curling and turned in shock to face Jughead's fury - and then his eyes went to Brand in a silent plea for help.

"_Hey_," Brand's voice boomed powerfully, dropping into a lower register as he grabbed Jughead's shoulder. "Apologize to your father right now. You know that he would never put you at risk like that, and you cannot keep demanding that he prove that to you over and over."

Jughead immediately ducked away from Brand's grip on him, and a flash of fear went through his eyes for just a moment before his glare snapped firmly back into place. "Yeah, like you're so trustworthy."

"_Stop that_. You _also _know full well that I'm not going to hurt you." Brand released Jughead but his expression was just as angry as his godson's. "Your father and I are not spending the rest of our lives on trial, Jones; you need to get your head on straight. You can't start slinging accusations out of nowhere and acting like we've been anything but model guardians to you for the last six months. It's exhausting, it's unfair, and it's not healthy for you either."

Brand narrowed his eyes when Jughead inhaled as if to argue again, and he continued: "_Wait_. You think before you speak, Jones, and I highly recommend that you take a beat and calm down. We can _talk _about things, or I can crash therapy with you two if you actually think that would be helpful, but dredging up ancient history in the heat of the moment because you're upset is unacceptable behavior. It ends now."

FP's eyebrows were raised in surprise as he absorbed Brand's impassioned speech, but he did not voice any disagreement.

Brand took a deep breath and his tone was more conciliatory when he continued. "We're the adults around here. Don't forget what I told you when we lived in the trailer: teenagers don't buy food and pay bills. You know what else? They don't police the adults. Even with our combined efforts we may not be Fred Andrews, but I promise you we're going to do our best to take care of you. Right up until things change and we start needing you to take care of us." Brand motioned to include FP, who frowned at the idea of needing help in old age even as he nodded in grudging assent.

Jughead looked between the two with an expression that was stricken, confused, and which seemed perilously near tears. For a moment it seemed like the whole issue might evaporate in the face of Brand's argument.

But then Jughead lowered his chin stubbornly and his expression hardened.

"Ohhh, no." Jughead turned on Brand vengefully. "Nothing about this is 'ancient history.' It was _last weekend_. The Serpents tried to hold me and Clark for ransom _two days ago_. Why are you lying to me? What's going on? Alice told me what you did, Dad. What you said. Why would you do that?"

FP hesitated a second time.

"You can't be read in, kid," Brand jumped in again, even as he gave FP a frustrated look over the lack of backup.

Jughead's jaw dropped. "Seriously?" He looked from Brand over to his dad.

FP picked the free weight back up, conspicuously avoiding eye contact. "You heard your godfather."

"Uh. Wow." Jughead thought over that shocking information for a few moments. His dad was undercover. Or something. "Are you planning on going back to the Wyrm? Is that a... _thing _now?"

"I don't know." FP looked to Brand, who shrugged. "Maybe not, Jughead. A lot's happened over the last day or two."

"Huh." Jughead's eyes narrowed. "Wait, are you just saying this - excuse me, _implying _this - to cover for something else?"

Brand put a hand over his eyes and his shoulders began to shake. It took a few moments for it to become obvious that he was stifling laughter.

"Oh, kid. I hope you realize that there's only so much we can say. If you think we're refusing to tell you one thing to keep from _not _telling you something else… then I think we've officially reached an impasse. At some point you're going to have to break down and trust us." Brand tried to tamp down on his amusement, but it was a struggle.

"I get it, Jones; I really do. You've had quite the week, and at this point you probably think that you shouldn't trust anyone - not the Serpents, the FBI, or anybody else. But the real lesson you need to learn here is that you can't be lazy. You need to trust individuals, and that means doing the work of assessing them. Sometimes that might include trusting someone who's lied to you and won't explain why. Or someone who kidnapped you and never quite let you go."

Brand dropped his hand back onto Jughead's shoulder, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "You have to weigh things and make a decision about each person. There are no shortcuts."

Jughead scowled as he thought about that. "Maybe."

"And Jug… It's not like I've been read into everything that you're involved in," FP studiously avoided eye contact once again as he made the comment. Brandon would not like him poking at that so directly, but it seemed like the right time to acknowledge what none of them ever talked about. "We all trust each other. That's how the wolf pack works. Right?"

Jughead had frozen. He looked to Brand, who shrugged with a curt nod.

Jughead relaxed marginally, and then he frowned. "Except that Brand gets to know everything. That's not fair."

"Come here." FP set the weight down and waved his son over. He stood and pulled Jughead into a careful hug before he leaned in close to his ear to whisper. "I love you. I'd kill for you."

Jughead was startled.

"Now we have a secret from Brandon." FP smiled.

Jughead pulled the hug a little tighter and whispered back. "I love you too. I'd suck at the killing part, but I'd give it my best shot. I could hire Brand to do it, maybe."

FP laughed and laid a hand on the back of Jughead's neck while he rested his forehead against his son's, mindful of the bruises that were slowly healing over most of his body.

"I actually have a secret for you, too, Jones." Brand shrugged a little too casually. "You can even tell your dad if you like."

Jughead rolled his eyes, but obediently moved out of his father's embrace and leaned into Brand's offered hug so that his godfather could whisper as well.

Brand did not whisper.

"I've had my work reviewed, and apparently I'm not in trouble. In fact, I impressed a lot of people. There have been some lucrative offers, what with my citizenship and particular training, and I'm considering taking a longer-term position as international liaison with the field office - and whipping that disaster of a resident agency into shape."

Brand tousled Jughead's hair, seeing that he was still confused about the implications of his statement. "It hasn't been ideal being so far away from you. Some of that's going to be up to you two, though. I'd have to sell the townhome. Make some big changes. This is your turf, kid, and your father's territory. I take that seriously."

Jughead was stunned as he realized what Brand was saying. And then hopeful. "Dad? Can Brand move in? Permanently?"

"_What_? How did you get that from what I just said?" Brand was scandalized. "I would get my own place, kid. Move in here _permanently_? I'd never have a decent date again. Look, Jones, it is high time that we had a talk. Sometimes, even when two adults care about a kid very much, they need to live apart. But that doesn't mean they don't-,"

"Knock it off, Davies. You're not nearly as funny as you think you are. And no, Jughead, Brandon's not moving in for anything approaching the long term." FP shook his head, looking almost as horrified as Brand. "You are going to college in just under two years. Trigger's more than enough of a legacy."

Trigger had been sniffing around the door that led from the basement to the back yard, but at the sound of his name he trotted over, leaned against FP's leg, and looked up at him expectantly. FP dropped a hand on his head.

"Trig's coming with me." Jughead motioned to his dog, but Trigger just looked at him and then leaned more heavily against FP. "Emotional support animal, remember?"

"Nobody wants to see the monster living in a dorm," Brand said. "That is a terrifying thought."

"Well, once I'm living off campus, maybe."

"Maybe." FP looked at Brandon assessingly. "The FBI wants you here?"

"And a few other people," Brand said - and once again his tone was suspiciously casual.

Jughead looked back and forth between them, waiting to see where this was headed and how it would play out.

"It's a good real estate market." FP's tone was just as casual. "Fred can help you out with finding a place. He did right by us."

Jughead abandoned Brand to hug his dad again.

"This is going to be awesome."

"It will be something," FP corrected with a small smile. "Buy stock in ice cream."

"You bet." Brand walked over and wrapped both Jughead and FP in a bear hug. "We'll need to talk about how we want to work weekends and holidays."

"Cut that out." FP glared, pulling out of the hug.

"What? That sounds good to me," Jughead looked back and forth between the two adults again. "Brand knows a lot of people around here, Dad, but we're kind of his family."

"That is not what he meant." FP folded his arms.

Brand was smirking. "Custody, Trip. I'm talking about joint custody, once I get a bedroom all set up for you in Riverdale, just the way you like it."

"Oh. Uh, Brand." Jughead frowned uncomfortably. "Come back upstairs. We can look at houses online; Dad needs to finish his workout." Jughead motioned to his godfather and started to steer him away from FP. "Maybe we can... bake something to go with all the ice cream."

Brand laughed.

"Hold up just a minute. Brandon moving here does not mean you're his full-time manager," FP said, not liking how quickly Jughead had stepped in to buffer the teasing. "You'll need to let him screw things up and clean up his own messes, Jughead."

"Brand always helps me with mine." Jughead shrugged. "It seems fair."

"Very fair." Brand smirked at FP.

"But don't let me catch you getting in trouble intentionally, so that I'm _forced _to step in," Jughead warned seriously. Only his eyes betrayed that he was trying not to laugh. "I wouldn't want to have to put you in a time-out."

"Huh. It's too bad that now is probably not the ideal time to try tickling the kid. What do you think, FP?" Brand asked.

"You should wait until those ribs heal," FP confirmed.

"Wow. You'll still be here in six weeks." Jughead looked awed by the time depth.

"That's the general idea," Brand replied. "There will be a few changes at the agency, too. I'm going to look into keeping Agent Quinn on as part of the transition team, and hiring Clark once his internship's done."

"You should have coffee-making written into his job description," Jughead suggested. "He loves doing that. It would be a selling point."

"I can see that you'll need me around to teach you some professionalism." Brand sighed dramatically.

"Make sure you write in that he's not my boss, too."

"What did you think I was planning to hire him for, if not bossing you?" Brand smirked.

"Maybe I'll write a job description, too," FP said.

"For what?" Jughead was intrigued and hopeful that he'd learn more about whatever his father and Brand had been hiding from him.

"For Brandon. If he's moving to Riverdale and living here while he finds his own place, then maybe I should make some rules. Guidelines."

"No way, old man." Brand was dismissive. "I do my own thing on my own time."

"Not once you're officially attached to the FBI. Not once you're firmly located in the chain of command." FP's grin was full of satisfaction and he crossed his arms once again as he considered that idea. "I'll be thinking about what I foresee this looking like around here, too. 'Duties as assigned' is a given, of course."

"Of course," Jughead echoed, folding his arms in solidarity with his father. "He can clean the bathrooms."

Both adults turned to regard him with suspicion.

"You haven't done that yet, Jug?"

"Trip, you can't leave that until late. You need to rest up. Go clean those right now."

Jughead glowered in response to the abrupt turnaround in alliances.

"First duty, Brandon: oversee Jughead cleaning the bathrooms," FP ordered. "Then cook something edible for dinner. I'll help cook when I'm done here, and I'll take care of my bathroom; he can skip that one."

"Duly noted." Brand narrowed his eyes at FP. "You'll do the dishes?"

"You have never once loaded the dishwasher properly, so yes, I'll do the dishes," FP retorted. "Jughead can help."

Jughead watched this negotiation play out and sighed heavily. "Whoever wins… I lose."

"You know it." Brand grinned at his godson's discomfiture.

"Hey, you're winning too," FP corrected Jughead. "Maybe even the lottery."

"With two such fine parental figures as us around? Definitely the lottery."

"Some people would kill for it." FP winked.

Jughead cracked a small smile then. But he was still a little nervous about what changes might be coming.

**00000**

**Epilogue**

**00000**

Late that night the burner phone buzzed. Jughead had concealed it in his backpack, a place his dad and Brand never looked, and one which allowed him to keep it close to hand. He'd need to turn it off and only check it occasionally, but an undercurrent of anxiety had led him to leave it on for the time being.

Jughead silently slipped out of bed, scooped up the phone, and took it with him to the basement while Brand and his father slept on.

"Hello?" Jughead kept his voice low.

"Jones." A familiar voice filled his ear. "What a pleasant surprise; I thought I'd be leaving you a message. It's been quite some time since we spoke, but I feel as though I've really gotten to know you. All the same, this is so much better, don't you think?"

Jughead was not sure how to respond to Dominic Rose's words. "Uh, maybe."

"I'm just calling to make sure that we have contact, and that everything is set up in case we ever need it. We may not ever need it, you know."

"Donn said that too," Jughead replied cautiously.

"I also wanted to ask if you're familiar with the phrase 'fish or cut bait.'" Rose had a smile in his voice. "Because I've made my decision about Brandon, but you're a little trickier. I thought it might speed things along if we were all on the same page."

"I'm... not sure." Jughead knew the phrase, but had no idea what it might mean in this context.

"Cutting bait is giving up on a venture. Cutting your losses. It's sometimes the wisest move for all parties - and certainly it can work out well for the fish - but it can also leave some nasty litter." Rose made a disapproving noise. "Loose ends strewn absolutely everywhere at all of the nicest fishing spots."

That was beginning to make more sense. And it was not sounding like good news.

"I'm a fair man. I want to be sure you understand that the wrong decisions could mean I'd be forced to cut bait with one or more of my investments. But I'm not one to litter." Rose paused for emphasis. "I always take care of my loose ends. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Jughead felt the phone pressing painfully against his ear and realized that he was hurting himself by holding it so tightly; his whole body was tense.

"Good. Have a nice night, Jones. I'll be in touch again if I have cause to do so."

The phone went dead.

Jughead returned to his room, but he did not sleep that night.

**00000**

**That didn't really read like the end to the series, did it? (Oops?) **

**The sequel, sixth in the series ('sexquel' sounds too ****risqué**** but isn't that kind of the word...?), may already be live if you're reading this! It's called Pay The Piper, and I think that says everything you need to know. Enjoy! I'll love hearing what you thought of this wrap-up chapter, and its insistent push (shove?) into the next story! :)**

**I hope to see you there!**

**-Button**


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